Maya is a young freelancer helping to stage ultra-luxury apartments for “Ownership” in Manhattan. She’s mastered having a great attitude despite being kind of a mess. She’s good at her job but she’s supposed to be an artist, isn’t she, even if, let’s admit it, her art is making puppets - not that there’s anything wrong with that.
When the Covid lockdown hits, Maya flees her crummy flat in Sunnyside, Queens and stows away in an unsold penthouse in a barely occupied brand new super-high rise, the kind built for oligarchs and billionaires. From her gilded if half-empty perch she recovers from the events of the ill-fated run up to quarantine: a string of humiliations at work with her “ex-with benefits”, with her married sister, as well as the strange date slash marriage proposal she had with a mega-bucks man-child, someone even more socially awkward than she. One after another these characters seek refuge at the penthouse with Maya, forcing her to finally stake out a territory to call her own. She emerges as the summer of social justice protests captivate the world. Maybe in the grand scheme of things she’s not so fucked up after all. (Who are we kidding, of course she is.)