52. Porticullus-Eric

• FADE IN


• INT. MUSEUM-DAY


• Tommy and Claire hold hands, standing in front of an exhibit with stuffed Caribou. Tommy is unshaven and wears an old, ugly, dirty shirt with stained jeans. Claire is clean looking, wearing a lavender sun dress and a paisly blouse under a buttoned sweater.


• They observe a display of several, full-sized Inuit replicas holding fishing poles. One stokes a model fire under a spit.


• CLAIRE
• Imagine if you had to live like that. I wonder what kinds of thoughts go through their heads.


• Tommy slowly turns his head to Claire and grins.


• TOMMY
• I already know what it's like.


• CLAIRE
• What?


• TOMMY
• Eyes are like the porticullus of one's thoughts, their very essence. The person doesn't have to say anything. Their eyes do. Even these fake ones on the Eskimos. Eyes can lock you out or pull you in.


• CLAIRE
• Umm, What are you talking about?


• She releases her hand from Tommy.


• TOMMY
• Like your eyes. They're beautiful, when the light hits them the right way they look like liguid mercury. But they say you long for something that your lips want to believe is just out of reach. Your lips lie, but your eyes confess. Eyes always confess, and betray.


• Claire leans back from Tommy, and gives him a bewildered and frightened look.


• CLAIRE
• You're really starting to creep me out.


• Tommy looks into Claire's EYES. She leans back farther from him.


• TOMMY
• Look, just forget it. I'm talking crazy because of stress from work.


• CLAIRE
• You're working?


• TOMMY
• Yes...no. Hey, let's just forget it OK?


• Claire frowns for a few seconds then walks off.


• INT. LIVING ROOM-NIGHT


• Tommy and Claire sit in a living room, drinking wine. Stuffed animals hang over a fire place. A white, fur rug sits in the center of the wood tiled floor.


• Claire is on the opposite side of the couch, looking somber.


• CLAIRE
• I've got to go in a few minutes.


• TOMMY
• Whatever.


• CLAIRE
• See, this is what I'm talking about. Your apathy. You don't care about anything. You won't even shower. How long do you want me to live for you?


• TOMMY
• Sure, sounds great.


• CLAIRE
• Are you even listening to me?


• Tommy smirks, and takes a sip of wine.


• Claire sets the wine glass on an empty inn table and grabs her purse.


• CLAIRE
• I'm NOT coming back this time. I won't let you hold me back. Find someone else to live through.


• TOMMY
• I guess I'll have to.


• Claire grabs her purse and stomps to the door. She stops halway, drops her purse, and holds her neck. She begins choking. She falls to her knee and stays there for several seconds, before falling over.


• INT. PUBLIC STORAGE ROOM-MORNING


• Tommy stands in the dark storage room whistling. He fondles a plastic case with Claire's eyes. They float inside the case, suspended in a liguid solution.


• A long row of eyes inside the same kind of cases line a shelf that wraps around the room.


• In a back room, several eyeless, embalmed heads sit on a wood table. Claire's sits in the front.


• FADE TO BLACK