366. A Requiem For Those We Love - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. FORGE - NIGHT


• The forge glows orange, flames bouncing off of the large metal shapes that dominate it.


• In the center of forge is an iron table, to which IOLA is bound.


• She is blindfolded, her large, dark wings held in vises that stretch out on either side of the table.


• THE BLACKSMITH, muscle-bound creature with a short, white beard and blueish wings stands above her, grasping a white-hot collar in his tongs.


• TWO OTHERS stand by the table, watching; one dressed in an immaculate pin-striped suit, his shoes gleaming like mirrors, the other in a strange, almost ancient-seeming military jacket - his hands glow pure white.


• The Blacksmith lowers the collar towards her neck.


• The muscles of her wings tremble as she feels the heat descending.


• The Blacksmith stops.


• THE BLACKSMITH
• Are you sure? Are you sure the Morning Star wants this?


• PIN-STRIPED MAN
• Are you afraid?


• THE BLACKSMITH
• We've never...killed...one of our own before.


• PIN-STRIPED MAN
• No one has ever betrayed us before.


• THE BLACKSMITH
• But to cut her off from Father?


• PIN-STRIPED MAN
• Watch your tongue. I'm getting sick of this, blacksmith--shall I?


• The Blacksmith shakes his head.


• PIN-STRIPED MAN
• Cut her off. Then take her and chain her in plain sight - so she can watch the mud drinkers she seems to love so much.


• The letters etched into the collar seem to slither with ancient darkness.


• The Blacksmith's hands tremble as he lowers the burning collar onto Iola's neck.


• She screams as metal burns into flesh, her wings spasming.


• IOLA
• Daddy!


• EXT. SKYSCRAPER ROOF - NIGHT


• The hum of machinery is gentle over the sounds of traffic in the streets far below; people rushing to be home with their families or join parties at the center of town.


• Iola, her once-beautiful wings tattered, sits on the roof, shivering.


• Her ankle is chained to the lightning rod, which rises from the center of the roof.


• She is thin, sick, a ghost of who she was.


• Along the wall at the edge of the roof are pasted hundreds of pictures - people from around the world, and under each, a flame hovers.


• She closes her eyes, and begins chanting.


• IOLA
• Lacrimosa, Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus.


• The chanting becomes singing - the haunting strains of Mozart's requiem.


• There is something unearthly and utterly captivating, about her voice.


• It is as if an entire orchestra is forming in the notes she breathes.


• She stops, placing her hands together, palms up, struggling, in some strange supplication.


• A flame ignites above her palms and she shakes with the exertion.


• She continues singing, her voice building, her body shaking - decaying so fast it is almost visible.


• In the distance the sounds of a massive crowd carry to the roof.


• CROWD
• 10, 9, 8, 7...


• Her song builds to the climax.


• CROWD
• 4, 3, 2, 1!


• Fireworks explode as the music climbs to the finale; the crowd cheers and the faces along the wall illuminated as the flames seem to glow brighter for a moment.


• She struggles to finish, almost whispering.


• IOLA
• Dona eis requiem, Amen.


• She falls backwards, wings disintegrating as she hits the ground, the flames snuffing themselves out one by one.


• She stares upward into the sky, lights bursting overhead and gasps - as if the collar is choking the life from her.


• Her breathing slows and her glowing eyes, flicker, the last flames to die.


• The faces from the pictures look over her as her eyelids close.


• The lights high above her spray her body in colored light as her broken feathers blow away, scattered across the city like so many ashes as the final notes of the requiem die.


• FADE TO BLACK.

If you're interested, listen to the Lacrimosa of Mozart's Requiem.

365. The Dollmaker's Heart - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT


• The shop is a small, crowded place, filled with strange tools, tubs of miniature clothing of all sorts, spools of hair, and shelves upon shelves of unfinished dolls.


• NARRATOR (V.O.)
• In a little village, not too far from where you are sitting, lived The Dollmaker. Nobody knew much about him, for they rarely saw him leave his shop. When he did, they knew he would always give a gentle smile, and have some magnificent present for the village children, before he rushed away - and to where? No one knew.


• In the corner of the shop there is a sprawling miniature, stretching from wall to wall, complete with forests, rivers, lakes, and a town.


• NARRATOR (V.O.)
• What no one would ever know, was that the gifts he gave to the village children were mere trifles, the work that stayed within his shop was his true genius. A world for his special creations.


• EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: LAKE - NIGHT


• ARIEL, a doll within the tiny world, sits by the lake, digging into the soft dirt.


• Beside her rests a small glass jar, gleaming in the starlight.


• She looks up, weary, and puts the shovel aside, the hole is deep enough.


• Her articulated wrists are covered in small leather bracelets and beaded strings.


• She has an impressive mohawk that rises high above her head, and a single strand of spike that is carefully place in front of each ear.


• She wears a dark t-shirt, a skirt, and diamond-patterned fishnet stockings.


• Ariel straightens and pulls of her shirt, shiny plastic skin reflecting in the moonlight.


• She pulls a tiny latch at the center of her ribcage and her chest opens, like two, small wardrobe doors.


• Within her chest, nestled within delicately arched ribs, lies a small, glowing heart.


• She reaches inside and pulls it out, placing in the jar, then closes her chest and pulls her shirt back on.


• She holds the jar up to the light.


• The heart is battered, bits of duct tape and twine holding it together.


• She stares at it for a long moment and then places it in the hole, covering it with dirt and patting it down.


• She stands and walks woodenly back to the town.


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT


• THE DOLLMAKER watches sadly, on his stool, perched above his created world.


• He watches his world through hundreds of small lenses which descend from his ceiling, each calibrated for a different degree of detail.


• EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: ARIEL'S HOUSE - MONTAGE


• Ariel sits in the corner of her home, eyes blank, body still as time passes, day into night and back again, never moving, eyes empty.


• END MONTAGE


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT


• The Dollmaker is sitting on his stool again, watching Ariel through one of his glasses.


• NARRATOR (V.O.)
• The Dollmaker usually left his creations to their own devices, watching, but careful not to interfere too much. But every once in a while...


• As he watches, he sees a tiny rat crawl across the apartment, around Ariel's chair, and over her lap, and she does nothing.


• He purses his lips, then reaches into his world and taps gently on her door with a finger.


• She doesn't move.


• He whispers.


• THE DOLLMAKER
• Little One? Open the door.


• She turns, face pallid from weeks of inactivity and stiffly moves to the door.


• ARIEL
• Why should I open the door?


• THE DOLLMAKER
• Why did you bury the heart I made for you?


• ARIEL
• I'm so tired of it breaking. And nothing I tried helped.


• THE DOLLMAKER
• Would you let me try?


• She pauses then opens the door a crack and sees his hand there, waiting.


• ARIEL
• Alright.


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT


• The Dollmaker walks to a corner of the room where strange, frightening-looking tools hang.


• He pulls off his apron and his shirt, revealing a thick scar that runs down his chest.


• He turns to the wall, removing a large knife, and in a smooth, practiced motion takes a breath, then slices his chest open, crying out.


• He takes a smaller tool, and reaching into his chest, cuts away a piece of flesh.


• He places it in a small jar.


• Taking another heavy breath, he cleans his wound and begins stitching closed his wound, his needle tracing a familiar path up his chest.


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - NIGHT


• The Dollmaker sits at his work bench, working hard with his tiny tools, crafting a heart from the flesh.


• He leans back in his chair, grimacing for a moment with the pain, then relaxes.


• He holds the tiny heart up to the light, turns a final screw and it begins to glow.


• EXT. MINIATURE WORLD: ARIEL'S HOUSE - DAY


• Ariel blinks awake, still in her chair, as sunlight begins to bathe the room.


• She looks down, surprised; in her lap is a beautiful leather case.


• She opens it carefully and finds the heart, beautiful and brilliant with light.


• A small note is attached to the box.


• THE DOLLMAKER (V.O.)
• Dear One, I cannot promise that it will never break again, but is a safe life worth the emptiness?


• She looks around at the cobwebs that have formed around the room and the chair itself, threatening to make their move on her body itself.


• THE DOLLMAKER (V.O.)
• Guard your heart, but don't lose it. I can promise that I will always repair it for you. Just ask.


• She pulls it out of the box and with just her touch, light pulses from it into her hand, the warmth of life spreading into her face.


• She turns upward looking out the window and nods.


• INT. THE DOLLMAKER'S SHOP - DAY


• The Dollmaker pulls away from his lenses, a smile on his face.


• He stands up and walks away, leaving the small world to wake up to a new morning.


• FADE TO BLACK.

364. My Dream Girl - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. AIKO AND STEVEN'S ROOM - MORNING


• STEVEN sits in the bed, pulled up to his chest as he watches AIKO wake up.


• She turns over, then opens one eye, looking up at him, and smiles.


• STEVEN
• Hey you, how're you feeling?


• AIKO
• Not too bad, still have that headache though.


• STEVEN
• Well, its Tuesday, so Mike'll be here soon. Hey, I'll go get you some breakfast, you just relax there.


• AIKO
• Thanks babe.


• INT. KITCHEN/DINING ROOM ROOM - MOMENTS LATER


• Steven pads down the hall into the kitchen in his slippers, whistling softly.


• He grabs a tray from the cupboard and starts fixing breakfast, putting a skillet on the stove and tossing tater tots in the oven.


• The doorbell rings and he slides over to the front door, spatula in hand.


• Opening the door, he waves MIKE, who stands on the porch in jeans and a fleece jacket, inside.


• Mike carries an old-fashioned doctor's bag with him.


• They walk down the hall.


• MIKE
• How's she doing?


• STEVEN
• Still's got the headaches.


• MIKE
• Well, let's see if we can finally take care of that today. I got some new meds in that I think will be perfect for her.


• STEVEN
• Mike...


• MIKE
• She's going to be just fine. We'll get her through this ok? And she'll be better than new.


• Steven pulls open the bedroom door and sticks his head in.


• STEVEN
• Hun? Mike's here, says he has some new drugs for you.


• AIKO (OS)
• Hey Mike, is it time for me to get high?


• MIKE
• Be good, Ai.


• She laughs.


• STEVEN
• I'm going to finish breakfast, see you two in a sec.


• Mike slips in, closing the door behind him, leaving it open just a crack.


• Steven walks the few steps back to the kitchen and checks the skillet's heat.


• He turns it down a bit and grabs eggs from the refrigerator.


• As he closes the fridge door, he notices that the sink is dirty


• He lets out a half-exasperated, half-amused sigh.


• STEVEN
• Woman, will you ever learn?


• He reaches for a dishrag, his hand landing on cold metal.


• He looks around, then under the sink, finding nothing.


• He heads back up the hallway and pulls open a closet door opposite to the bedroom.


• Inside, towels and dish clothes sit, neatly stacked.


• AIKO (OS)
• Will this be the last upgrade, do you think? I'm pretty tired of the headaches.


• MIKE (OS)
• I'm hoping.


• Steven grabs a dish towel and pauses.


• There is a pneumatic hiss and Aiko sighs.


• Steven tiptoes to the door and peeks through the crack.


• Aiko rests against the bed's backboard, her left arm lying above the sheets, a section of her skin pulled away to reveal small ports into which Mike has plugged several small devices.


• Steven stares in horror and backs away, tripping and pushing the door open.


• INT. AIKO AND STEVEN'S ROOM - MORNING


• Mike and Aiko stare as he tumbles in.


• STEVEN
• How could you bring that thing in here?


• AIKO
• Babe, it' me. I'm still Aiko, I haven't changed.


• Steven gets up, staring straight at Mike, unable to acknowledge Aiko.


• STEVEN
• I told you I wanted nothing to do with your love bots.


• MIKE (OS)
• She's not just a love bot, Steve, she's designed just for you - she not some brainless plastiwhore, I mean, she's as real as they get - more real than most women out there.


• STEVEN
• Out. Get it out of my room.


• AIKO
• Baby, please!


• The look of horror is locked onto Steven's face.


• He stumbles to the bathroom and sounds of him throwing up travel out into the bedroom.


• Smoke begins to enter the room from the burning potatoes.


• The fire alarm goes off.


• INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY


• Steven sits on the couch, his fingers tapping angrily on the glass of the coffee table in front of him.


• Mike sits next him.


• The front door is open and through it, they can see TECHS carefully boxing Aiko.


• She is still awake.


• AIKO
• Steve, please, Steve, I love you. Please, please don't let them take me away. Steve!


• STEVEN
• How could you have gone specifically against what I wanted Mike? If I wanted some computer programmed to love me, I would have said so.


• MIKE
• You know she was the only way.


• STEVEN
• Only way to do what?


• MIKE
• You know that she was the only way to get what you were looking for.


• STEVEN
• Everything was perfect, the way we met, her just being so amazingly spontaneous. And it's all fiction. All 1's and 0's.


• MIKE
• It wasn't made up, you both experienced it - she just happened to be a little more predisposed for it.


• STEVEN
• Screw you.


• A TECH walks in.


• TECH
• Excuse me sir, I need you to sign the deactivation and memory wipe papers. You'll see that reactivation is available for up to three months after the memory wipe.


• STEVEN
• Ok.


• TECH
• Sign here...and here.


• Steven places the papers against the glass and signs them.


• The Tech takes them back and nods to his coworkers outside.


• AIKO
• Please Steve, please.


• Her voice trails off, then stops, her eyes closing as the techs fiddle with buttons on a small remote.


• MIKE
• You can still stop them. C'mon! You two were perfect for each other - no one else will ever come that close to making you happy. And you made her happy.


• STEVEN
• Made her happy? Come on.


• He almost chokes on his disgust.


• The techs finish sealing the crate and move away, revealing a large logo stamped across the front, reading "My Dream Girl."


• Steven crosses his arms and stares away from the open door while Mike watches sadly as the techs roll the crate onto their van and drive away.


• FADE TO BLACK.

363. Wind Child - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. THE BUSINESS DISTRICT - DAY


• JERRY DICHTER makes his way through the press of bodies on the sidewalk, all racing along - a sea of suited bodies flowing in neat waves.


• Jerry is almost invisible in the crowd, his neatly tailored suit and handsome briefcase giving him distinguished anonymity.


• His face is a mask of professionalism - determined busyness.


• A spot of color appears in the crowd as MAKANI enters the flow, pushing opposite of the majority of the crowd - a colorful fish swimming upstream.


• She pushes past a group of business people and stops, face to face with Jerry.


• He stops, off-balance.


• Regaining his balance, he moves to get around her.


• She puts out her hand, in a slight, graceful movement halting him.


• MAKANI
• Are you listening?


• JERRY
• Are you crazy?


• He pushes past her, returning to the anonymity of the crowd, shaking his head.


• He puts his head down, checking his watch, his feet moving in measured, quick steps.


• He looks up and skids to a stop again.


• Makani is again in front of him.


• The wind ripples through her hair.


• MAKANI
• Are you listening?


• He attempts to ignore her and skirts around her.


• He walks faster, looking straight ahead as if locked into invisible blinders.


• He looks behind him and sighs with relief when he sees that she is not following him.


• Turning back, he lets out a sharp breath of surprise.


• She stands, hands behind her back, the breeze playing with the edge of her skirt as she smiles, cat-like, at him.


• The crowd flows around them, water rushing around a rock in a stream.


• She moves close to him.


• MAKANI
• Jerry, are you listening?


• He catches sight of her eyes and is transfixed by them.


• Her pupils are midnight black, surrounded by irises which flare and pulse with color, like miniature nebulae.


• He feels pulled closer in and for a moment sees tiny dots swirl in her pupils, like tiny planets orbiting a dark star.


• Jerry is lost, time slowing to a viscous flow.


• Makani blinks, looking away, suddenly shy, and Jerry snaps out of it.


• JERRY
• I'm listening.


• She leans closer, whispering.


• MAKANI
• Take your shoes off Jerry, this is holy ground.


• He looks at her for a moment, then reluctantly pulls his shoes off.


• He wears one bright orange sock and one striped blue and black sock, their colors joining hers in their flashy protest against the monochromatic mass around them.


• He stands, uncomfortable.


• She stretches her hand out again.


• MAKANI
• Close your eyes.


• He obeys, reluctantly.


• MAKANI
• When the wind calls, you will listen, you will follow its voice, and follow it to places you won't want to go, but you will serve, and through that service you'll find a deep joy.


• A powerful wind picks up out of nowhere and swirls around Jerry as he opens his eyes.


• His irises flare, now swirling with color.


• Makani smiles, turns, and is gone, lost in the ocean of black and gray.


• Jerry holds his shoes in one hand, the crowd pushing around him.


• His face is no longer locked into its former mask but has melted - a deeper emotion than he has ever felt filling his eyes and lips.


• The wind blows and he begins walking almost unaware that he is moving again, shoes still in hand.


• He realizes what has happened and lets out a loud laugh, then continues walking.


• FADE TO BLACK.

362. The Awakening of Emily B. Waterford - Leslie

This script was inspired by a project I did a few years ago. Please Click on the image to see it in full view.

• FADE IN:


• INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: HALLWAY - DAY


• Sunlight spills into the hallway from the living room.


• EMILY B. WATERFORD slips out her bedroom wrapped in a soft bathrobe.


• She smiles, whistling a bit as she shuffles in her slipper-clad feet towards the bathroom.


• INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: BATHROOM - DAY


• Emily brushes her teeth, staring absently at the Van Gogh print that hangs on the opposite wall.


• The painting is one of the few sources of warmth in the cool, modern bathroom.


• She rinses her mouth out, spits into the sink, then pauses as she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror.


• A strange hairline runs down her jawline.


• She rolls her eyes.


• EMILY
• Oh, not again!


• She pulls reaches for a bottle of lotion sitting above the sink and liberally applies a large dollop to her face.


• She turns to leave without giving her face a second glance.


• INT. EMILY'S HOUSE: KITCHEN - DAY


• Emily sits at a small breakfast table at the center of the kitchen.


• An expensive cookware set hangs on a steel rack above the oven.


• The oven's brushed metal surface gleams in the morning sun which is now pouring through a large picture window in the living room.


• The rooms are somewhat spartan in their modern minalism, but a well-placed lamp or set of candles provide needed warmth around the space.


• Emily sips a cup of coffee, enjoying her view of the city below her through the large window.


• She turns and stops, catching sight of her reflection in the oven window.


• Putting her mug down, she stands and walks over to the oven, stooping to get a better look.


• The hairline crack is still there.


• EMILY
• Weird.


• She touches her face and skin of her cheek lifts slightly away from the line.


• Repulsed, she pulls her hand away.


• She stares, then touches it again.


• More skin pulls away.


• She lets out a sharp breath, then almost by compulsion, pulls more.


• In a smooth motion her face pulls completely off into her hands.


• She looks down at her face, sitting, perfectly formed, like a grotesque mask, in her hands.


• EXT. RUINS - DAY


• It takes her a moment to realize that her house no longer exists.


• The world she knows is gone, replaced by a dirty, destroyed city.


• Breathing hard, she gingerly touches her face, horrified at what she might find.


• Her face is still intact, soft from a lifetime under the strange mask.


• She looks around at the new world around her.


• People wander blithely through the wreckage, their eyes blank.


• She turns and sees her neighbors sitting in the dirt, making the motions of eating breakfast.


• She runs over to them and sees that they too seem to be wearing the odd masks.


• She looks down at the mask that is still in her hands.


• Grabbing it, she attempts to force it back onto her face, but it does not hold.


• She tries again and again as it becomes more and more damaged.


• She places it on her face one more time, trying to force it to stretch into place and it tears.


• The pieces in her hand, she sits down in the ashes, despondent.


• She tosses the torn mask aside and her eyes follow the pieces as they get picked up by the wind, then dashed into the remnants of a brick wall, right next to another mask.


• She stands, surprised, as she catches sight of the second torn mask.


• She walks towards it and sees another and another forming a crooked line to the horizon.


• Emily follows the masks, growing smaller and smaller until she fades into the horizon.


• FADE TO BLACK.

361. Don't You Know - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM - DAY


• SETH sits at his desk taking notes as MR. SCHNEIDER drones on.


• MR. SCHNEIDER
• These are the tentpegs of Greek literature, people, take note. The hero, his hubris, the hamartia he commits because of that hubris, his realization that his fate is inescapable, and your katharsis as you receive enlightenment about your own situation. Note it well, folks - this far into the year, you shouldn't have to ask me what all this means.


• Seth senses something and looks up.


• MEGAN is standing at the narrow window, gesturing at him.


• He nods and raises his hand.


• She slips out of sight.


• MR. SCHNEIDER
• Yes, Mr. Hamra?


• SETH
• May I get a hall pass? I think I ate something that disagreed with me last night, and well...


• The other students snicker.


• Mr. Schneider sighs.


• MR. SCHNEIDER
• Alright, Seth - but only because you seem to be paying attention. Hubris?


• SETH
• An act of imbalance. A person acting in a way, often inspired by arrogance, which places him in a state of imbalance that must be righted.


• MR. SCHNEIDER
• Good enough.


• He fills out the slip and Seth moves forward quickly, hand on his stomach, and takes it from Mr. Schneider.


• MR. SCHNEIDER
• You really should watch your diet Mr. Hamra; this happens far too often for my comfort.


• Seth nods and hurries out of the room.


• EXT. HIGH SCHOOL - DAY


• Seth comes around a corner of the brick building and finds Megan sitting on of the benches that rest against the wall.


• He sits down next to her and she move closer and puts her head on his shoulder.


• He takes out his watch and sets the timer for five minutes.


• SETH
• Last night that bad?


• MEGAN
• I'm fat and I'm ugly.


• SETH
• I'd tell you that you're not, because you're not - but I'm tired of saying it and not having you believe me. But you're not.


• MEGAN
• That's sweet of you.


• SETH
• He called you fat and ugly and he laughed at you and then you went down on him. Please, don't tell me who "he" is this time.


• She wipes her eyes.


• MEGAN
• You're getting good at this. At least it's not sex.


• SETH
• I think it is.


• MEGAN
• Well, thanks for making me feel like a slut now.


• SETH
• Did I say that? It's just that sex is up here.


• He taps his head.


• SETH
• I mean, you kiss someone the right way and that's sex. Sure it's not all the same, but it's not as clearly defined as any of us want it to be. It's all a big gray...


• He waves his hands around.


• SETH
• I'm sorry. Are you ok?


• MEGAN
• Not really. I know, I know what you're going to say. Don't. Can we just sit here?


• SETH
• Ok.


• They sit on the bench, fall leaves drifting to the ground around them as the time ticks away.


• The timer on the watch buzzes, startling both of them.


• Megan pulls away from Seth and stands up.


• SETH
• You're absolutely beautiful. Maybe one day you'll get that. And the day you get it, everyone else will too.


• MEGAN
• See, I knew you were going to say something.


• Seth shrugs.


• MEGAN
• Thanks, I'll see you later. And you should probably come up with a better excuse.


• He smiles.


• She walks away, heading around the corner, pausing, just out of his line of sight, and peeking back at him.


• Seth sits on the bench for a moment longer.


• His smile fades.


• SETH
• You're absolutely beautiful. You walk into a room and there's just this way that light wraps around your face. Ah, crap.


• He touches the part of his shoulder where her head rested and sits like that for a moment.


• Megan watches and lifts her foot to take a step back to the bench, then pauses.


• She takes one more look at him, then turns, and slips back towards the entrance as Seth sits lost in thought.


• FADE TO BLACK.

360. The Borrowed Coat - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - DAY


• The Spot is a small, cafe-like space, with 6 large, circular tables arranged neatly around the room and a few couches in the corners. Each table is decorated with Christmas candles and wreaths.


• The room is packed with a variety of homeless people enjoying Christmas dinner.


• A serving window connects the dining room with the kitchen, in which several volunteers are busy cooking.


• MIRI carefully monitors the turkey and potato wedges cooking in the oven.


• She bastes the potatoes with an herb butter mixture, watches for a moment more, then closes the heavy metal door.


• A box of clothes sits in a corner of the kitchen.


• Miri walks past it, to a stool over which her heavy wool coat is draped and feels around her pockets.


• She pulls out her cellphone and checks the time, then absently sticks it into her pants' pocket.


• MIRI
• Abby?


• ABBY, a tall woman busy searing chicken spins around.


• Miri jerks her head in the direction of the clothes.


• ABBY
• Oh, kids from one of the local churches...they're going to stop by and pick 'em up - take 'em to some of the shelters.


• MIRI
• Ah.


• She returns to the potatoes.


• The front door of the soup kitchen bursts open and a group of kids, wrapped tight in coats and scarves against the cold.


• The weave between the tables, talking and laughing loudly.


• FERNANDO, one of the group leaders grabs the box, spilling some onto the floor.


• He grabs them and grabs Miri's coat as well, tossing into onto the pile.


• FERNANDO
• Hey, thanks so much for letting use the space.


• ABBY
• No problem at all. How's it gone so far?


• FERNANDO
• Ah, it's been great, great. Some of the kids are going to head off and drop these off at a few places. Thanks again.


• Abby and Miri wave and he heads out, the flock of teenagers and young adults following him.


• Miri pulls the potatoes and turkey out of the oven, placing them on the serving window counter.


• MIRI
• Alright, Abs, I'm out.


• ABBY
• By darling, thanks for stopping by and helping - you and that fantastic turkey you make.


• MIRI
• You just want me for my turkey.


• ABBY
• All too true.


• Miri heads out of the kitchen and to the front door.


• She opens the front door and is hit with a blast of cold air.


• MIRI
• Oh!


• She closes the door and rushes back to the kitchen.


• Heading to the stool, she stops short, noticing that her coat isn't there.


• She looks around.


• MIRI
• Hey, has anyone seen my coat.


• ABBY
• Stool.


• MIRI
• Nope. I gotta find it - I've got my iPod in the pocket...and my keys! Oh, my keys...shoot!


• Abby turns around.


• ABBY
• Huh...you think that they?


• MIRI
• Nah, couldn't have, it wasn't close to that box.


• ABBY
• It was a bit.


• Miri waves her hand and turns in a circle, looking.


• She walks back into the dining room, searching.


• INT. CAR - DAY


• The box of clothes bounces along on the backseat of the car, a piece Miri's coat sticking out a few layers from the top.


• INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - DAY


• The Spot is emptying quickly, its patrons bundling up and slipping out into the late afternoon.


• Miri and Abby washes dishes in the kitchen.


• ABBY
• Thanks for sticking around.


• She smirks.


• MIRI
• Not funny.


• ABBY
• Well, at least Fernando's looking for it.


• MIRI
• You know, the iPod doesn't really matter that much - I've got all the music on the computer anyway...but the keys. I need my keys. And it's cold! I'm not going out there without that jacket. It's my nice jacket. My hippie jacket from London.


• Abby grimaces sympathetically and keeps scrubbing at a pot.


• ABBY
• You did call him, right?


• MIRI
• I called - he's looking.


• MONTAGE


• 1. The car comes to a stop and clothes are grabbed from the box, Miri's coat gets shoved aside.


• 2. Miri sprawls on one of the couches in the now empty soup kitchen. She gets up and searches for the coat a bit, then goes the kitchen and grabs a broom and begins to sweep the dining room.


• 3. The car speeds off to its new destination, the box somewhat emptier.


• 4. Miri sits up straight on the couch, the broom leaning against the couch, inspecting her phone, then pacing.


• 5. The car is stopped in front of another shelter and more clothes are pulled from it.


• 6. Miri sits on the edge of a tabling staring off into space while Abby sits on the couch reading a magazine.


• 7. The car pulls into another shelter and the rest of the clothes are pulled out.


• END MONTAGE


• INT. MIRIAM'S HOUSE WOMEN'S SHELTER - EVENING


• Fernando stands in the corner of the shelter lobby speaking quietly into his cell phone.


• FERNANDO
• Hey, Hey Miri - Yes, this is Fernando. Ok, so I found your coat, but there's a problem.


• He looks across the room.


• LUCY is wrapped in the coat, enjoying its warmth.


• FERNANDO
• No, no - it's just that, it was given to someone. Um, I can get it for you.


• INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - EVENING


• Miri sits on the couch, holding the phone sleepily.


• MIRI
• Oh, no, no, let her keep it. But just one favor.


• INT. MIRIAM'S HOUSE WOMEN'S SHELTER - MOMENTS LATER


• Fernando approaches Lucy awkwardly.


• FERNANDO
• Would you mind, um, could I see the coat for a second? I promise, I'll give it back.


• She looks at him skeptically.


• FERNANDO
• I just...there's something in the pockets, um, something that I have to give back to someone.


• She just looks at him.


• LUCY
• Well, I'm not taking it off.


• FERNANDO
• Umm.


• He reaches over gingerly and sticks his hand in one of the pockets - its empty.


• He tries the other one, but no luck.


• FERNANDO
• Is there an inside pocket?


• She contemplates for a moment, then slowly opens her coat.


• He carefully reaches inside and lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls out a tangle of keys, headphones, and the iPod.


• INT. THE SPOT SOUP KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER


• Miri holds the phone to his ear, half listening.


• She looks over at Abby, who waits expectantly, and whispers.


• MIRI
• He's so sweet, he searched all over East LA for that stupid coat.


• She smiles as Fernando says something.


• MIRI
• No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry you had to go searching - thanks so much, I really appreciate it. Ok, goodbye, you have a Merry Christmas too.


• She hangs up, slipping the phone into her pocket.


• ABBY
• So, did he find your jacket, is he bringing it back?


• MIRI
• Yes, no.


• She leans back into the couch cushions and closes her eyes, leaving Abby to stare at her, confused.


• FADE TO BLACK.

359. The Belated Apology - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. COLLEGE BANQUET HALL - EVENING


• The banquet hall is packed with people milling around tables, the buzz loud buzz of conversation filling the place.


• A sign hangs above the small stage near the front, proclaiming WELCOME HOME ALUMNI!


• JACK wanders the tables, searching for familiar faces.


• He winds his way through the mass of people and spots an empty table on the edge of the room.


• He sits down sideways, head still swiveling to pick out a familiar face.


• Hearing someone sit at the table, he turns around.


• LIZA is sitting across from him, her name printed in large sharpie letter on her name tag.


• She gives him a half smile.


• LIZA
• Hey Jack.


• JACK
• Wow...it's been forever.


• LIZA
• Fifteen years.


• JACK
• How are things? I heard you'd gotten married to Henry - you guys running a restaurant?


• LIZA
• We co-own it and I'm the exec chef.


• JACK
• Wow, that's pretty amazing. Sounds like it worked out well for you - it's what you wanted...exactly.


• LIZA
• I'm kind of impressed with myself too. You still designing clothes?


• JACK
• Still doing the fashion thing. Had a runway show in New York two months ago - still tough, but it's getting better.


• LIZA
• Good to hear you're sticking with it.


• They pause awkwardly and Jack looks around.


• He looks back, Liza's ring catching his eye.


• JACK
• How's Henry?


• LIZA
• He's good, he's good.


• They are silent for a while longer.


• JACK
• I'm sorry, I have to ask. This has been eating away at me since college.


• LIZA
• Yeah?


• JACK
• Did I break your heart?


• LIZA
• Yeah, you did. It wasn't the worst heartbreak I've ever had, wasn't the worst heartbreak at the time, but you did.


• JACK
• I just...


• LIZA
• One day everything was ok, the next you couldn't even hold my hand without wincing.


• JACK
• Yeah, I guess it seemed like it. Internally, I'd been debating for a long time - and I guess one day, I just realized it wasn't working, and then it got really hard.


• LIZA
• You could have said something, and not tried, badly, to keep things going.


• JACK
• Man, I must have been the biggest idiot.


• LIZA
• You were a jerk.


• JACK
• The more I've thought about it, the worse I've felt. I wanted to be perfect, the perfect nice guy - and instead...


• LIZA
• You were really sweet, you were the nice guy - you just handled the whole break-up part badly.


• JACK
• And the worst of it was,


• LIZA
• That you never said anything and I had to break up with you - and I was still very in love with you. I had to break up for you.


• JACK
• I really screwed up and I never apologized. I'm so sorry. I really am.


• LIZA
• It's ok, I got over it - we both learned. At least I did. You better have.


• JACK
• And keep learning every day.


• Liza glances over at the bar on the other side of the room.


• LIZA
• Hey, Henry's waiting for me. I just wanted to say hi.


• JACK
• Good seeing you.


• LIZA
• You too. Hey, chin up. You're still a nice guy. Just, well, you know. But you say you've learned.


• JACK
• I'm sorry.


• LIZA
• Bye, Jack.


• JACK
• Bye.


• He watches her go, then turns to the wall and slumps a bit in his chair.


• FADE TO BLACK.

358. Fate, Manufactured - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. FARMER'S MARKET - DAY


• PAUL wanders the rows of stalls idly, inspecting everything from neatly labeled jars of wild honey to sniffing at soy candles.


• The market is packed with every type of booth imaginable.


• Paul trips over a small pile of postcards, sending them flying.


• He looks around, embarrassed, then, assured of his conspicuousness, he reaches down and grabs a card, walking casually away from the mess.


• When he's moved far enough away, he looks down to read what he's holding.


• It's a simple card, printed on thick, brown, recycled paper. and it reads "Gypsy Market: Catch us if you can".


• PAUL
• Well, that's silly.


• He looks around, then heads to the closest booth and approaches the vendor.


• PAUL
• Hey, can you tell me where this is? The Gypsy Market?


• VENDOR
• Sorry, I've got no idea. Maybe if you follow the closest pair of dreads.


• PAUL
• Heh, thanks.


• Paul wanders a bit more, peering at booth titles.


• He nears the end of the row of booths and then stops.


• A small sign hangs on a streetlight pole
  among the usual collection of lost-and-found notices, concert flyers, and random ads.


• It reads "Gypsy Market," with a small arrow pointing left.


• He heads left, behind booths, cutting behind the rows and rows of vendors.


• The booths then and he finds himself at the edge of the farmer's market.


• A ring of RVs and caravans are parked in a semi-circle, there at the edge, tables and booths piled full of wares.


• Paul smiles and clenches his fist in small gesture of victory.


• He enters the semi-circle, one of a few shoppers eyeing the wares.


• Several of the shoppers are engaged in loud and cheerful bargaining with the vendors.


• He scans the tables an finds a small one covered with votive holders, small lamps, and little figurines crafted out of scrap metal.


• He stops to inspect the figurines, which are put together with a surprising amount of skill and intricacy.


• KATE, a girl with carefully mismanaged dreads, an exotic looking jacket, and flared jeans covered with well-placed flecks of paint, slips out of the RV directly behind the table and comes up to Paul.


• KATE
• So you like my little toys?


• Paul pauses.


• Her accent is a north English one, surprising and beautiful.


• PAUL
• Eh, they're nice enough.


• KATE
• Oh, I know you love them - look at you, trying to drive a hard bargain.


• PAUL
• Like I said, they're ok.


• KATE
• Ok, mister.


• He scans the table, feigning boredom.


• PAUL
• So what inspired these?


• KATE
• Oh, a summer of reading Flannery O'Connor and a weird assortment of steampunk lit.


• Paul's mask cracks.


• KATE
• Ah, ha! See. Not only do you love my little creations, you are either a fan of dear old Flannery or steampunk lit.


• PAUL
• What? I didn't say anything.


• KATE
• Come off of it.


• PAUL
• Both.


• KATE
• Oh, my dear, I have you, don't I?


• PAUL
• You've utterly destroyed my bargaining position.


• KATE
• Well, you're cute - and you obviously have good taste, so we'll see what I can do for you.


• PAUL
• And now you're trying to rush me. I'm still just looking.


• She smiles coyly.


• PAUL
• So when did you discover Flannery?


• KATE
• A library in Stevensville, Michigan.


• PAUL
• Visiting family?


• KATE
• Do I sound American?


• PAUL
• You could have American family, I'm just saying.


• KATE
• The caravan was there for a few weeks.


• PAUL
• Wait, so you guys really are gypsies? I thought maybe this was a cool marketing gag for a store, or just something local. So you don't live anywhere?


• KATE
• Homeless and couldn't be happier.


• PAUL
• Wow. So why'd you move to the States?


• KATE
• What is this, a first date?


• PAUL
• Oh, sorry, guess I was trying to give you the sixth degree there.


• KATE
• 'Tis alright. Now which piece do you want.


• Paul points to a dancer with a gas mask that covers the lower part of her face and nail file blades in either hand.


• PAUL
• I see the steampunk influence, but the Flannery?


• KATE
• If I could explain everything about my art or how something influenced it, it wouldn't be art, now would it?


• PAUL
• Fine. So how much?


• KATE
• What do you think is fair?


• PAUL
• You tell me.


• KATE
• Fifty.


• PAUL
• Ha! If you noticed, this isn't a gallery show and I'm not Daddy Warbucks - Fifteen.


• KATE
• See, I had started to like you. Are you delirious? Forty-Five.


• PAUL
• Twenty.


• KATE
• Thirty, I'll go no lower.


• PAUL
• Twenty-Five.


• KATE
• Thirty-Five.


• PAUL
• Was nice talking to you.


• He begins to walk away.


• Kate grimaces.


• KATE
• Twenty-Seven.


• Paul spins around.


• PAUL
• Done.


• He counts out the money.


• PAUL
• So how much do you usually sell these things for, twenty?


• Kate doesn't say anything, but her eyes twinkle as she wraps up the figurine.


• PAUL
• Figures. So how often do you guys come around the area?


• KATE
• I don't really know, this is our first time. Maybe we'll be back; maybe we won't. We just go where the wind takes us.


• PAUL
• Oh.


• KATE
• I'm sorry.


• PAUL
• Well, I was going to take you out next time you were in town - but since you won't be, you have some time today?


• KATE
• Sorry, no - we're leaving as soon as we finish here. But, if I could, I would - like I said, you have good taste.


• PAUL
• See, we shouldn't leave something like this to chance - you have some kind of contact?


• KATE
• What better thing to leave to chance? The world is infinitely smaller and larger than you can imagine. If we're supposed to meet again, we will.


• PAUL
• And what about us making our own fates?


• Kate shrugs, smiling, and walks around the table to hand him the figurine.


• PAUL
• Or maybe you just don't to see me again, eh? Just being nice?


• KATE
• Maybe it is that only, yea?


• PAUL
• You really would leave it to fate?


• KATE
• Life is strange. We'll bump into each other again if we're supposed to. If not, we have these sweet memories.


• She hugs him and surprised, he hugs her back.


• She steps away.


• PAUL
• Well, ok, here's to fate then.


• KATE
• Kate, I'm Kate.


• PAUL
• Paul, Paul McGrew.


• KATE
• Be well, Paul.


• He walks away from the table and waves, then heads back to the main market, figurine in hand, his face a bemused mix of emotions.


• ARI walks over to Kate from his booth.


• She's inspecting Paul's business card in her hand.


• ARI
• Who was that then? And when did you start hugging folk? Did you whip him that badly on the price?


• She smiles and waves the business card bearing Paul's name at him.


• KATE
• He didn't do too bad.


• ARI
• Oh ho, you are a sneaky one. He was that special, was he?


• KATE
• I think so, yea.


• ARI
• What happened to fate? The world being big and small or whatever that crap is you say?


• KATE
• You can't leave something like this to chance.


• ARI
• Hypocrite!


• She smiles, then leans back against her RV and inspects the card again.


• FADE TO BLACK.

357. The Misdirect - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. MAIN STREET SIDEWALK - DAY


• TIGHE stands in the middle of the sidewalk staring up at a tree growing up out of a planter dividing the path.


• Its slender trunk swirls upwards; its smooth, paper-like bark spiraling up towards the branches.


• With its small, amber-colored leaves, it could have been pulled straight from a Disney film.


• Tighe ponders the tree, slack jawed, not moving a muscle.


• People pass him on the sidewalk, paying little or no attention to him - he is a familiar sight.


• A Group of TEENAGE BOYS walks up to him, all bravado.


• Tighe flinches, pulling away from them, his hands curled at his side, fingers feeling at the air.


• BOY 1
• Hey, what's up in that tree, Tighe? What's so interesting?


• BOY 2
• I betcha he's looking for the shortbus.


• BOY 1
• Is that what you're looking for? Aren't you a little big for the shortbus?


• The boys laugh, attracting DENNIS' attention.


• He makes a beeline for them.


• DENNIS
• Hey, leave him alone, go on!


• The boys walk away, sneering and laughing.


• DENNIS
• Hey Tighe, c'mon man; you've been staring at that tree for as long as I can remember. Maybe it's time to find another tree.


• Tighe barely reacts, blinking fast.


• DENNIS
• You keep this up, people are going to think you're slow.


• He chuckles.


• Tighe's phone suddenly rings, startling both of them--a cheerful, electronic polka.


• He reaches for his pocket, trying to get to it.


• Dennis watches awkwardly, moving in to help, then back away.


• The phone stops ringing.


• Tighe looks at Dennis with his half-empty eyes.


• TIGHE
• Gotta go, gotta go.


• He moves away with surprising speed, his stride jerky, his hands clenching and unclenching, head tilted to the side.


• EXT. TIGHE'S HOUSE - DAY


• The street on which Tighe's house is lined with trees that hide the slightly decrepit state of the neighborhood.


• He rounds the corner, his tilted gait identifying him from a ways off.


• He gets to his house and walks up the sidewalk, fumbling for his keys.


• He finds them and gets the door open, sliding inside.


• INT. TIGHE'S HOUSE: ENTRANCE - DAY


• The house is simple; it doesn't appear to have been re-decorated since the 70s.


• Tighe makes his way down the single hallway and halfway down the hall, his shoulders relax and his eyes clear.


• He shuffles into his bedroom.


• INT. TIGHE'S HOUSE: BEDROOM - DAY


• His fists clench and unclenching, Tighe walks to his desk and sits, carefully.


• The room is filled with beautiful sketches, drawings, and paintings of the tree from every angle imaginable.


• Where there aren't paintings, there are bookshelves packed with classics.


• He leans over, painfully removing colored pencils from a drawer and flips open a sketchpad.


• Reaching over to a cd player perched at the edge of the desk, he punches the play button, and the sounds of Mendelssohn fill the room.


• He smiles, his lips splitting in a strange grimace, then bends over the sketchbook and begins a new version of the tree.


• FADE TO BLACK.

356. Joy - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. PORCH - NIGHT


• LEE sits on the broad porch of a California bungalow-style house.


• The porch wraps around the front and side of the house, its wooden floor glowing orange from the lamps within the house, their comfortable light spreading out from the large picture windows that run parallel to the porch.


• The street on which the house sits radiates warmth and safety, its houses displaying neatly arranged Christmas lights in addition to an assortment of antique-looking street lamps.


• Many of the houses have their own unique lamps, all spilling orange warmth onto the street; some hanging above porches, some above gates, which serve more for show than any essential purpose.


• Lee wobbles back in forth in one of the wicker rocking chairs scattered around the porch.


• A small tape recorder sits in his lap.


• He takes a breath and hits play.


• JOY (V.O.)
• Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.


• He stops the tape, rewinds.


• JOY (V.O.)
• Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.


• He stops it and looks out over the street, shivering.


• He pulls his coat and scarf tighter as a stiff breeze pulls dead leaves from the trees lining the street.


• Inside the house, Lee's brother, DAVE watches from one of the windows.


• He purses his lips and heads to the door, only to be restrained by ALI, his wife.


• They wait, concerned, watching Lee through the window.


• He presses the play button again.


• JOY (V.O.)
• I'm so sorry, baby - I didn't want to go this way. Make sure you're on the porch when you play this - I love how - I loved how - is it weird for me to speak about myself in the past tense? I know, you're getting upset now; I shouldn't take this so lightly. I loved how the neighborhood looked at night. That's how a neighborhood should look, inviting, safe. I miss you already. I can hear you in the kitchen right now and I'm wondering what you will do when you find me. I can't joke anymore, not really - and I think that's when it's over. This is all wrong, but I don't know what else I can do. If not now, then my pet monster will take over my brain, and all the treatments will turn me into a living skeleton. There's no need for that. I don't want you to see me like that. So, so I'm going to go now. I'm going to hit stop on this thing, and I'm going to go. I love you, babe. We didn't get enough time together, did we? Next time, ok? We'll do it right next time.


• Lee slumps, then hits rewind and waits.


• The tape clicks to a stop.


• JOY (V.O.)
• Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.


• He stops it, hits rewind again, then play.


• JOY (V.O.)
• Hola, darling; this is me, Joy.


• He stops it and rewinds again.


• FADE TO BLACK.

355. The Starlight Coast - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. AMTRAK COAST STARLIGHT TRAIN - DAY


• WILL wanders into the observation car of the train, marveling at the southern Californian coastline.


• He slides into a seat next to the massive window and stares as the train races north.


• He begins to doze off.


• LEANN walks into car and looks around for a free seat; she spots the seat next to Will and heads towards it.


• She stops in the aisle, leaning over to tap Will on the shoulder.


• He blinks sleepily.


• WILL
• Ehm?


• LEANN
• Hey, would you mind me sitting next to you?


• WILL
• Hmm? Oh, no, no, that's fine.


• She slides into the seat next to him and slips off her jacket, revealing a short-sleeved blouse with intricate button work.


• Cherry blossoms are tattooed across her right shoulder, the petals spilling onto her biceps.


• Will admires them.


• WILL
• Is spring your favorite season?


• LEANN
• Oh, no. I'm melancholy, and I think by definition we love fall - it's in our nature. The most bittersweet of seasons. I just need to remember, every once in a while, that spring is coming.


• WILL
• Cool. I'm a fall guy too.


• LEANN
• I suspected. I always daydream about meeting cool, like-minded strangers on the train. It doesn't happen nearly as much as it should. Thankfully, you were here today.


• WILL
• Well, I'm flattered. You travel the rails much?


• LEANN
• The rails?


• WILL
• Yeah, maybe shouldn't have said that out loud.


• LEANN
• It's ok. I live in Portland, but I do a lot of gallery shows in LA. It'd probably be faster to fly - well, I know it would, but trains, I'm completely in love with trains.


• WILL
• Oh, me too. Lived in Germany for a summer, was completely amazed at how easy it was to get around. Promised myself I'd use public transport as much as I could when I got back here.


• LEANN
• A man after my own heart.


• They smile at each other.


• LEANN
• Oh, look! This is one of my favorite parts of the coast.


• WILL
• You do do this a lot.


• LEANN
• Oh yeah.


• WILL
• It's beautiful.


• They watch out the window for a while in awe.


• Will relaxes into his sit again, content in the quiet.


• LEANN
• This might be a bit forward, sorry - would you mind if I used your shoulder as a pillow?


• WILL
• No problem.


• LEANN
• Thanks dashing train stranger.


• Will opens his mouth, attempting to find a response, then gives up.


• He gestures to his shoulder.


• WILL
• All yours.


• She puts her head down on his shoulder and he looks back outside at the world racing by.


• FADE TO BLACK.

354. A Tomaszewski Christmas - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. WARSAW OLD TOWN (STARE MIASTO) - DAY


• ABEL walks the edges of the Old Town's market square, staring up in awe at the colorfully painted buildings that ring the cobblestoned area.


• He is so lost in the world above him that he doesn't notice KSENIA barreling towards him on her bike - and she, distracted by the the bags she is trying to balance on the bike.


• Abel steps right into her path and she slams into him sending the two of them sprawling.


• He scrambles up.


• ABEL
• Prosze...eh...przepraszam? Ehm...


• Ksenia sits up.


• KSENIA
• It's ok, I speak English.


• ABEL
• I'm really sorry.


• Ksenia shrugs.


• Abel rushes to help her put her bags back in order.


• She stands, righting her bike.


• ABEL
• Where are you going? I can help.


• KSENIA
• Just there.


• She points to a small shop at the end of the square.


• Abel hoists the bags and they walk across the cobbles, Ksenia pushing her bike.


• She parks the bike in front of the shop and Abel hands her the bag.


• ABEL
• Sorry again.


• KSENIA
• No problem.


• She takes a closer look at him.


• ABEL
• Have a good day.


• He begins to head off.


• KSENIA
• Wait, you - are you here in Warszawa alone?


• ABEL
• Yeah, just traveling around for my vacation.


• Ksenia tsks and shakes her head.


• KSENIA
• Come, have dinner with my family. It's no good to be alone for Christmas.


• ABEL
• It's not Christmas today.


• She tilts her head.


• KSENIA
• Of course - it is the whole...


• She waves her hands searching for words.


• KSENIA
• The whole season, the season is Christmas, it is Advent. Come.


• ABEL
• Well, when you use that tone of voice.


• KSENIA
• What?


• ABEL
• Nevermind.


• She opens the door, grabbing the bags from him and shoos him in.


• INT. TOMASZEWSKI FAMILY STORE - DAY


• She closes the door behind her and pushes Abel to the back of the store to a flight of stairs.


• They head up the stairs to first floor of the residence.


• INT. TOMASZEWSKI DINING ROOM - DAY


• They enter a large, comfortable living room/dining room area.


• MR. and MRS. TOMASZEWSKI and GRANDMA TOMSZEWSKI are seated around the dining room table.


• Mrs. Tomaszewski is a thin, open-faced woman, Mr. Tomaszewski a thick man with strong hands, and Grandma, a small woman with a face that is filled with stories.


• Ksenia drops her bags.


• KSENIA
• Czesc!


• MR. TOMASZEWSKI
• Czesc Ksenia!


• She turns to Abel.


• KSENIA
• To Jest...


• She looks at Abel quizzically.


• ABEL
• Abel, Abel Martyn.


• KSENIA
• To jest Abel. Abel, this is my Baba, my Mama, and that's Babcia. I am Ksenia, Ksenia Tomaszewski.


• She points to her father, mother, and grandmother.


• Abel waves.


• ABEL
• Dzien Dobry.


• The grandmother smiles broadly and thumps the chair next to her.


• MR. TOMASZEWSKI
• Come, come.


• They sit and in a moment, Abel has a large bowl of soup in front of him.


• He eats, savoring the warm food as the family around him laughs and talks.


• MRS. TOMASZEWSKI
• Soup with, eh...grzybowa i kapusniak.


• She motions with her hands.


• KSENIA
• Wild mushrooms and cabbage.


• ABEL
• It's really good...dobra, dobra.


• The family beams.


• MR. TOMASZEWSKI
• Dessert, sernik i makowiec!


• He grins.


• KSENIA
• Cheesecake and poppy seed rolls.


• ABEL
• Oh wow.


• MONTAGE


• They eat, moving from soup to smoked salmon, cabbage salad, and roasted chicken.


• Abel is surrounded by a swirl of polish words and food.


• END MONTAGE


• When they are finished, Mrs. Tomaszewski bustles about clearing the table and replacing the main course with the dessert.


• Abel samples the cheesecake and rolls while the family expectantly watches.


• ABEL
• Oh, wow, that's really amazing. Dobra!


• They laugh and smile, launching into their own helpings.


• Abel finishes the cheesecake and stands.


• ABEL
• Thank you very much, dziekuje. It was amazing. I'm sorry, I have to get going.


• Mr. Tomaszewski stands and claps Abel firmly on the shoulder, shaking his hand.


• Abel shakes Mrs. Tomaszewski's hand and Grandma waves him over, planting a wet kiss on his cheek - he grins at her and she flutters her eyelashes.


• KSENIA
• Babcia!


• Abel moves to the door.


• KSENIA
• Tch, I take you. Where are you staying?


• ABEL
• Ehm, right across the river, on Florianska street.


• KSENIA
• Oh, it is, as you say, the bad side of the tracks.


• ABEL
• Or river in this case. Well, the hotel price is right.


• KSENIA
• Ok, I take you.


• ABEL
• Thanks.


• KSENIA
• Baba?


• MR. TOMASZEWSKI
• Oh? Oh!


• He pulls keys from his pocket and hands them to Ksenia.


• KSENIA
• Come on.


• ABEL
• Thank you again!


• MR. TOMASZEWSKI
• Welcome, welcome.


• ABEL
• Bye, eh, do widzenia?


• MRS. TOMASZEWSKI
• Do widzenia!


• They wave and Abel and Ksenia head down the stairs.


• EXT. TOMASZEWSKI ALLEY - DAY


• Ksenia pulls a scooter onto the small alley behind the house and gets it started.


• She hands a helmet to Abel.


• ABEL
• How about you?


• KSENIA
• I'm ok. Get on.


• He obeys and they speed off, her hair blowing behind her.


• MONTAGE


• They ride through the square, exiting the old city across the Slasko Dajbrowski bridge that straddles the Vistula river.


• They cross the bridge, the skyline shimmering behind them.


• They enter the more modern part of the city, ancient cathedrals dotting the gray, communist architecture that dominates this part of the city.


• They wind through small streets until they reach Abel's hotel, a warm-looking five story building near a movie theater in the slowly gentrifying neighborhood.


• END MONTAGE


• Abel hops of the bike and hands Ksenia the helmet.


• ABEL
• Thanks - that was a pretty amazing lunch. It was nice to be around people again.


• KSENIA
• Yes, you need at least one good meal during Christmas. Otherwise...pffft.


• ABEL
• Thanks.


• KSENIA
• Ah, now you can go back to your friends in America and tell them about the, hot, hot yes? The hot girl you seduced on Christmas, no?


• Abel blushes.


• ABEL
• Ehm, no, not really my style. I will tell them about the beautiful polish girl who I nearly killed and who repaid me with a great meal.


• Ksenia laughs.


• KSENIA
• You have a merry Christmas Abel Martyn.


• ABEL
• And you too, Ksenia, Tomas, Tomaszewski.


• She smiles, pats him on the cheek and speeds off.


• He looks after her for a moment after she is gone, then smiles, shakes his head, and heads into the hotel.


• FADE TO BLACK.

353. And There Was Light - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. SKI SLOPE - EARLY MORNING


• The sun hasn't quite risen yet, the orange glow at the horizon hinting at its arrival.


• TERRANCE and ANI snowboard down the mountain, little lights strapped to their goggles illuminating the virgin snow ahead of them.


• Ani speeds up and pops a simple Ollie, her backpack bouncing against her back.


• TERRANCE
• Careful!


• ANI
• You worry too much.


• TERRANCE
• And with good reason, I don't want to be stuck here without getting a little buzzed for goodness sakes.


• They coast over a hill and the view opens up before them, a massive city ringing the far end lake below.


• It glows orange.


• As Ani and Terrance move closer, they can see that buildings across the city are on fire.


• They slow, reaching a level patch of snow.


• ANI
• Perfect - and a great view.


• TERRANCE
• Amazing...I remember coming here as a kid with my Mom, it was all forest and now, look at it.


• ANI
• Going back to forest?


• TERRANCE
• Yeah, probably.


• Ani pulls off her pack and pulls a picnic cloth out, then removes a Champagne bottle wrapped in cloth and two flutes.


• ANI
• See, just fine.


• They sit, watching the city as the fire crawls along the lakeside.


• The sun peeps over the horizon.


• A distant rumbling begins, echoing off the slopes around them.


• TERRANCE
• Here we go.


• He pours champagne into the glasses and hands one to her.


• ANI
• You wish you were going?


• TERRANCE
• Who doesn't?


• ANI
• You knew you didn't have a chance, right?


• TERRANCE
• I know.


• ANI
• Just checking.


• The rumble grows to a soft roar.


• TERRANCE
• My writing wasn't going to get me onto one of those ships - the brightest minds? Ha! 15 billion people, and they say they'll pick the brightest minds.


• ANI
• More like the best-lined pockets.


• A column of smoke rises fast in the distance, followed by more and more, until the horizon is obscured by pillars of orange smoke and flame racing into space.


• TERRANCE
• There they go.


• ANI
• To the old world.


• She raises her glass.


• Terrance raises his and theirs meets with a soft 'clink.'


• TERRANCE
• To a new world.


• Massive silos doors at the far side of the lake slide open, three miles in width and much deeper.


• There is a deafening roar and one by one, massive space craft scream into the air, escaping the bounds of earth for the first and last time.


• Dozens fill the air around the city.


• ANI
• To the best and brightest.


• TERRANCE
• So what do we do now?


• ANI
• Fight a war or two...


• TERRANCE
• Maybe we can actually change the way this place works.


• ANI
• And people will listen to us because?


• TERRANCE
• Maybe they won't, but it's worth a try.


• ANI
• Is it?


• TERRANCE
• They'll probably kill us.


• ANI
• Probably.


• Terrance finishes his champagne and stands, the vibrations rattling his snowboard.


• Ani packs the backpack and stands, slinging the backpack back onto her shoulders.


• ANI
• So?


• TERRANCE
• It's like another chance at creation - let's go get killed.


• She looks over at him.


• ANI
• Are we really serious? We're clueless - why not stay up here? They're tearing each other apart down there.


• TERRANCE
• Maybe it's our turn to have our voice heard. I don't know where we start, but I think we should.


• A ship blasts out of the ground at the base of the mountain and they begin sliding.


• Snow begins tumbling past them.


• ANI
• Oh. Guess the mountain's telling us it's time to go.


• She looks over at him and sees his face is wet with tears.


• ANI
• Ok, ok, let's do this.


• They race down the mountain, a newly-birthed avalanche at their heels.


• FADE TO BLACK.

352. Haiku - Songs of Stolen Glances

• 1.
  Coils of hair, rich brown
  A whisper of a smile, wise
  Ever so sexy.


• 2.
  Lost deep in fiction
  Hers, a watercolored face
  Speed-blurred pastel lips.


• 3.
  Lane Bryant beauty,
  Goddess on the cold metro
  Tosses me a smile.

351. The List - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. SAM'S APARTMENT - EVENING


• SAM's studio is neatly decorated with a variety of shelves, a hammock in the corner, and a desk with his laptop and a mess of cables, put half-heartedly in some kind of order, that lead to his exterior hard drives.


• The walls are covered with his framed sketches and paintings of beautiful, stylized women.


• Sam sits on a bar stool, a small art desk angled up in front of him, a pencil sketch waiting.


• A collection of fine-tipped colored pens sits on his knee.


• The door bell rings.


• SAM
• It's open.


• He doesn't waver, still intent on his bristol pad, a blue pen hovering above the sketch.


• MARK sticks his head in, the enters, closing the door behind him.


• MARK
• Oh, nice, I haven't seen some of the new ones.


• He scans the wall.


• SAM
• Yeah.


• MARK
• Sam? Sam? C'mon man, we gotta get you outta here, meet some real girls.


• SAM
• I'm good.


• MARK
• Seriously, dude. Look, it's not my style, but I got you a blind date for tonight. You're going to love her.


• SAM
• Really, I'm good.


• MARK
• Scared she won't match up to your ladies?


• SAM
• She won't.


• MARK
• You're clutching that list so tightly to your chest that you're never going to give yourself a chance to meet someone who could be even better than you imagined.


• SAM
• Not gonna happen.


• He begins inking in the sketch, his new woman's hair turning a vibrant aquamarine.


• MARK
• They're just pigment and stiff paper, canvas, whatever. C'mon - I may not be able to find you the perfect girl, but I betcha I can find the girl you can reach perfection with.


• SAM
• You've been planning to say that for a while?


• MARK
• Even practiced on the way over.


• Sam spins around to face Mark for the first time.


• SAM
• I appreciate the effort. You go take her out, she won't know the difference, I'm good.


• MARK
• Sam...


• SAM
• Mark.


• MARK
• Man, ugh! I, grrr.


• SAM
• Oh oops, am I pushing your buttons?


• MARK
• I just don't understand how you can just not try - how can you know you won't find something special - someone - without trying?


• SAM
• I've tried.


• MARK
• So why give up, man...there are so many possibilities, why just quit?


• SAM
• Look, I'm quite happy.


• MARK
• You're settling. Not the way you think you will if you end up with flesh and blood, but you are settling. You're giving away your chance to meet someone who might...


• He waves his finger at the wall of illustrations.


• MARK
• Who might be as good as one of your woman; maybe even match up to your list.


• SAM
• Thanks for the pep talk.


• He spins back to his desk.


• MARK
• She's an awesome writer - has always wanted to meet an artist. Says she loves how you guys see the world in a unique way. And you know she's right - you have this amazing ability to see beauty in every person you bump into.


• Sam spins back around, tempted.


• He pauses, then looks over at his shoulder at the sketch and infatuation creeps back into his eyes.


• He spins back to the sketch and hunches over his pen case, looking for the right shade.


• SAM
• I'm good. Enjoy your date - sounds like you two will hit it off. Look, you're already completing her sentences.


• Mark lets out an exasperated sigh and waits, hoping Sam will change his mind.


• He waits for another moment, but Sam is hunched over carefully inking his sketch.


• Mark's shoulders relax and shaking his head, he turns and slips back out the door, closing it quietly behind himself.


• Sam is lost in his work, smiling back at the graphite smile of the woman in front of him.


• FADE TO BLACK.

350. Seasonal Malady - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• TITLE - ACT 1: SPRING


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• SETH sits on the bench doing quick sketches of feet as visitors to the park pass him.


• He wears cargo pants, a sweater under a half-unzipped coat, and a cap tucked sideways onto his head.


• The bench sits at the perimeter, touching the park fence, giving Seth a great view of the park itself.


• A group of street musicians plays just in front of the fence, a DRUMMER pounding softly on a set of upside down buckets, while a MANDOLIN PLAYER and GUITARIST strum and sing.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• MIA sits on the bench, her head buried in her sketch book.


• She has her hair in dreads; a small top hat perched neatly on her head; a sweater with flowing sleeves; and a dark, asymmetrical skirt from which appears pin-striped slacks.


• She sees a THIN WOMAN in a turtleneck sweater and jeans and quickly sketches the woman, redesigning her clothes into a strange, fantastical outfit.


• The band plays a cheerful tune outside the fence.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• The band is busy playing for passerbys on the sidewalk that runs parallel to the park's fence.


• Seth sits on the bench, dressed in jeans and a turtleneck.


• He is busy sketching and does not notice at first when Mia walks down the sidewalk and perches on the opposite side of the bench.


• She sets patch-covered messenger bag on the cement in front of her and removes her sketchpad.


• She steals a glance at Seth and pauses.


• Tilting her head she begins sketching him.


• Seth feels Mia's eyes on him and waits a moment before stealing his own glance.


• He freezes for a second.


• She is wearing a page-boy cap, and a vaguely north-Asian sweater that is closed diagonally across her chest with little wooden pegs.


• He recovers quickly and looks away, then takes another glance and begins sketching.


• They sit on opposite sides of the bench, stealing alternating glances and sketching.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth sits on the bench, nodding his head to the music of street musicians and attempting to sketch a landscape of the park.


• His pencil hovers and darts, but nothing is coming.


• He sighs looks up at sky, then back down at his sketchbook.


• Finally, Seth flips to the page he started a while ago, the unfinished sketch of Mia's hands drawing.


• TITLE - ACT 1: SUMMER


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Mia sits cross-legged on the bench, her loose skirt flowing around her feet, nodding to the street musicians' lively music.


• She flips through her sketch book, looking through her work, then stops as she comes to the page with her portrait of Seth.


• She digs around her bag for a pencil, then begins touching up the shading.


• The mandolin player stops playing and turns around.


• Mia jerks around has he taps her shoulder, his arm stretched through the fence rails.


• He tips his hat at her and hands her a piece of paper, rolled into a scroll and tied with a simple burgundy ribbon.


• He nods his head at Seth's side of the bench and smiles.


• She looks at him puzzled, then turns around and unrolls the scroll and finds a beautiful rendering of her hands sketching.


• She puts it down in her lap and looks back at the mandolin player, but he has already turned his back and begun to play.


• She looks back down at her notebook, then rips out the page with Seth's portrait.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth sits on the bench, his hands folded.


• The mandolin player looks back, smirks, then returns to playing.


• Seth is so lost in thought, he almost doesn't notice the mandolin player's tapping.


• When he does turn around, he finds a scroll wrapped in burgundy ribbon pointed at his face.


• He takes the paper and tries to look calm, but his fumbling fingers betray him.


• He finally gets the scroll open and pulls it open.


• It's a drawing of him in the thin, leggy style of fashion sketches.


• He rolls it back up and leans back into the wood of the bench and smiles.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth and Mia sit on opposite sides of the bench, sketching.


• Seth scoots towards her just a bit, then pauses, and continues drawing.


• Mia scoots a bit closer to him.


• TITLE - ACT 3: AUTUMN


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth and Mia sit next to each other, holding hands.


• He points at a child running merrily and they laugh, sketching away with their free hands.


• Mia taps her pencil in time with the band.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth and Mia sit on the bench, his arm around her shoulder, her head tucked into his as they watch people pass.


• A warm Indian summer breeze plays with Mia's hair.


• The mandolin player dances a jig as the guitarist plays a solo.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth and Mia sit on the bench, scarves wrapped around their necks to shield from the cold as they sketch.


• They sit apart, their hands just slightly touching.


• Autumn leaves fall in waves across the park, whispering their own elegies in ripples of sound.


• The street musicians play a melancholy tune.


• TITLE - ACT 3: WINTER


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth and Mia are bundled tightly against the cold as they draw.


• They sit at opposite ends of the bench, just their fingers touching.


• The street musicians are gone, the park empty except for a few brave joggers.


• Mia pulls her hand away from Seth's.


• He doesn't notice.


• She watches his face, then stands up.


• He is lost in his world.


• Her lips tighten and she walks away.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Seth sits on the bench, alone, drawing.


• He looks over at Mia's side of the bench and his shoulders sink.


• He looks back at his sketchbook, then straightens his shoulders determined.


• The mandolin player walks up to the fence and leaning back, begins to play.


• EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY


• Mia sits, her little top hat perched on her dreads, alone on the bench, drawing holiday shoppers as they rush through the park, arms full of gifts.


• The street musicians play Christmas tunes on the sidewalk.


• She looks over at Seth's side of the bench for a long moment, then returns to her sketching.


• Seth approaches the bench, moving quietly.


• He puts his backpack down on the bench and Mia looks up.


• She stands up to leave and Seth holds up a hand, pleading for just a moment.


• She waits, standing.


• He pulls a scroll wrapped in burgundy ribbon from the backpack and hands it to her.


• She hesitates, then takes it.


• He removes another scroll, and then another, and another, until she is struggling to hold them all.


• She puts them down on the bench and begins opening them, one by one.


• They are all pictures of her, her fingers, her eyes, her lips, her face.


• She sits, overwhelmed for a moment, then reaches into her bag as he stands, nervously.


• She pulls her sketchbook out and hands it to him.


• He flips it open and page after page is filled with sketches of him.


• He looks at her, then at the bench, and carefully sits down.


• She sits down to and the look at each other for a moment.


• She smiles and takes his hand, pulling him to the middle of the bench.


• She kisses him, half-opened scrolls spilling across the park path.


• They lean back, his arm around her shoulders, watching the shoppers in their mad pre-Christmas rush.


• FADE TO BLACK.


• TITLE - FIN

349. Renewable Resource - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. BASE CAMP - DAY


• TRU, GREG, LISA, and ADAM sit around the craft services table, surrounded by film crew members on lunch break.


• GREG
• Man, sometimes it sucks being veggie, film sets are hit and miss for food.


• TRU
• Whine, whine, whine.


• LISA
• Nah, it's true, I mean, I'm not a complete vegetarian...


• ADAM
• A flexitarian.


• LISA
• Whatever, but yeah, it'd be nice if they made it easier for veggies on set. Well, consistently anyway.


• Adam yawns.


• TRU
• We boring you?


• ADAM
• Meh, who really cares? Let's talk about politics or religion.


• GREG
• Ha, you really do want to see us fight don't you?


• ADAM
• Eh, it'd be entertaining. Tru's agnostic, I'm going straight to hell and I don't really care, Lisa, care to add your status? Your state of belief.


• GREG
• Seriously? I'd much rather discuss braising a pig...


• LISA
• I'm sure you would. Well, you know...we can link food and religion. I mean...ok, so I'm not vegetarian, but I don't think humans were made to be omnivores - we're herbivores. I believe we were created and our bodies were designed to be renewed.


• Tru nods, interested and Adam rolls his eyes slightly.


• Greg mimics Tru's nodding.


• Lisa looks at Greg and raises an eyebrow.


• LISA
• You, you agree with me.


• GREG
• Excuse me?


• LISA
• You're a Christian - I saw that flash of something, and you're sitting there and nodding like I'm saying something very fascinating and very new. It ain't new to you. Don't do that. Don't play that game. If you believe, act like it - otherwise, your faith is worth nothing.


• Adam smiles and leans back.


• Lisa stands.


• LISA
• Excuse me, I'm going to go check on the talent.


• She grabs her walkie talkie and heads off.


• Tru slips out of her chair.


• Adam sits, still smirking.


• Tru grabs his arm and pulls him away.


• ADAM
• What? What?


• Greg sits in his chair, looking a little lost as the crew swirls around him.


• FADE TO BLACK.

348. Stranger - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. CHURCH LOBBY - DAY


• RICHARD, dressed in a crisply pressed shirt, khakhi pants, a perfectly matched tie, and shiny dress shoes, stands at the breakfast table, listening to the music coming from inside the sanctuary.


• He looks over at the table, contemplating the bagels, then at his watch.


• He sighs.


• RICHARD
• Guess it's that time.


• TED, a homeless man dressed in ragged plaid and holey sneakers pushes open the door nearest to the breakfast table and walks toward Richard.


• Ted's beard is flecked with unidentifiable bits of food and Richard works hard at not backing up as Ted approaches him.


• Ted barely looks up, mumbling.


• TED
• Could I get a bagel for my friend out there? Eddie, Eddie's ashamed to come in. Doesn't use drugs, doesn't do nuthin'. I told him the food was ok for him to have. Church people wouldn't mind, but he's ashamed.


• RICHARD
• Sure, that's fine.


• Richard moves aside to let Ted get to the table, then glances at the man's hands and reconsiders.


• RICHARD
• Here, I'll get you that bagel. Does he want it toasted, cream cheese?


• TED
• Just plain with cream cheese is fine. Knows the Bible better than anyone I know, Eddie does, but he's ashamed.


• Richard cuts a bagel and slathers it with cream cheese.


• He puts it on a plate and places a muffin next to it.


• RICHARD
• Yogurt?


• TED
• No, no...doesn't trust those packaged things, Eddie doesn't.


• Richard hands him the plate, trying not to shudder as their hands touch.


• Ted looks up at him for the first time.


• TED
• You think I didn't notice?


• RICHARD
• Excuse me?


• TED
• You'll get to Him on that day and you'll say, "Lord, Lord, I fed poor, smelly Eddie, I gave Ted the plate, Lord" and He'll say, "Get out, I don't know you, never did."


• Ted holds his gaze with Richard until Richard looks away.


• Ted turns to shuffle away and Richard rushes, faster than he'd like to the sanctuary, pulling open the door and letting the strains of music free for a moment, before closing the door behind him.


• FADE TO BLACK.

347. Stranded - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. CITY SQUARE - LATE AFTERNOON


• ALI sits on one of the benches that rings the square, her well-traveled backpack, sitting next to her.


• The backpack, covered with patches and a small Union Jack, sits taller than her.


• Her eyes are ringed with a light layer of eye-liner, just enough to attract attention without being overplayed.


• She looks out over the cobblestones of the square, her eye's half-empty - there is a distance in her gaze.


• Tourists criss-cross the square snapping pictures and talking loudly and those to whom the square is a piece of national heritage avoid the interlopers with no small amount of condescension.


• Ali reaches around her neck and yanks at a cloth strap wrapped around her neck.


• With a little effort, she pulls a small pouch out from it's hiding place under her shirt and opens it.


• She pulls a one-way ticket stub from New York to London from the pouch, then her American passport, worn and beaten from hard use.


• She feels around the pouch, her fingers searching earnestly.


• All she discovers are a few Euro coins.


• She looks one more time, but the result is no different.


• A MAN IN A COWBOY HAT walks past, devouring a pack of large french fries he's bought from the McDonald's whose garish sign mars the ancient square.


• Ali stares after him, eyes fixed the food.


• She digs into her pockets, searching for more, but they are empty, save for a pen and some scraps of paper.


• She sits back, exhaling hard.


• Biting her lip, Ali looks around, the light of the fading sun playing with her hair.


• A group of tourists approaches and she looks at them, then away, then at them again.


• They come closer.


• She flinches, then closes her eyes for a moment.


• Ali opens her eyes and holds her hand out.


• ALI
• Hey guys, could you just spare a little change?


• They pass, some tossing looks of pity back at her, and she slumps.


• Another tourist approaches, she braces, then holds her hand out again.


• FADE TO BLACK.

346. Haiku - Moving Songs

• 1.
  She wears the same shoes
  She's been wearing for five years
  Holding memories.


• 2.
  This empty room filled
  With invisible moments
  Tucked between boxes.


• 3.
  One last walk through, sigh
  Run a finger across wall
  Now leave, don't look back.

345. The Perfect Tree - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. CHRISTMAS TREE LOT - DAY


• JAMIE and SVEN walk, holding hands down one of the narrow aisles of trees, followed closely by AARON.


• They are wrapped in scarves and coats are drawn tight against the cold breeze.


• AARON
• Oh, look at this tree, I think it's the straightest one here. You guys should grab this one.


• Jamie and Sven smile at each other and keep walking.


• AARON
• Or this one. Look how full the needles are.


• They keep walking, turning a corner and heading down another aisle.


• AARON
• I don't like any of these.


• SVEN
• Jamie, do you hear a faint buzzing behind you?


• JAMIE
• I don't hear anything, where'd Aaron go?


• AARON
• Very funny, you two. Seriously, what are you looking for? The ones back there were perfect.


• SVEN
• We'll know it when we see it.


• They turn another corner and begin walking down.


• AARON
• Oh look, the branches on this one are nice and stiff, good for hanging ornaments from.


• They keep walking.


• Aaron shakes his head and decides to just be quiet.


• They come to the end of the row.


• Jamie turns to Sven and nods, smiling


• AARON
• Uh?


• The tree in front of them is misshapen, its branches drooping sadly, the top branches crooked.


• JAMIE
• This is it.


• AARON
• You kidding?


• SVEN
• Not in the slightest. It's our Christmas tradition. We pick the un-likeliest tree in the lot. Just our quiet statement.


• AARON
• That's pretty loud.


• They chuckle, admiring the unsightliest tree in the lot.


• FADE TO BLACK.

344. And If, Perchance, We Meet - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT


• ADRIAN wanders down the backstage hallways, his tux loose, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his tie slung untied around his collar.


• The hall is lined with large mirrors that stretch down the walls, separated by thin patches of pinstripe-wall-papered patches of concrete.


• He rounds the corner and comes to a full stop.


• DARYA is standing by one of the mirrors, her face millimeters from the surface, eyes half closed.


• She has a small, round face, a nose that turns up just slightly, and lips parted and she breathes onto the mirror, watching the fog of her breath grow across the glass.


• She is casually elegant, with her hair is tied into a bun, teardrop earrings spinning down to her shoulders, the thin straps of her dark tank top criss-crossing her back, and a faux fur-rimmed jacket around her elbows.


• Adrian backs up to the corner and tries to watch surreptitiously.


• Darya watches the fog disappear with a smile, then blows again, lost in her own world.


• Adrian watches, enchanted.


• She steps back and draws a pattern in the misted mirror.


• Adrian pulls back a bit and bumps into the edge of the mirror behind him.


• He winces in pain and stumbles.


• Darya looks up at the sound, catching Adrian.


• She stands up straighter, embarrassed, then smiles.


• Adrian pulls back, then decides against it, and pulls himself away from the wall, trying to look somewhat dignified.


• He walks towards her and her smile fades.


• ADRIAN
• Hi.


• DARYA
• No, just keep on walking.


• ADRIAN
• What?


• DARYA
• Just keep going; I'm just the girl you brushed past in the hall who you dream about for a few weeks, then forget.


• ADRIAN
• I was just going to suggest coffee or something - nothing that serious.


• Footsteps ring down the hall.


• DARYA
• Quick! Keep going.


• Adrian walks past.


• RICK strides around the corner which Adrian was hiding behind just moments before.


• His tux fits crisply against his muscular frame.


• RICK
• There you are! You're always slipping away.


• He kisses her firmly.


• Adrian turns back as Rick pulls Darya away.


• She turns her head and Adrian is captured by her lips, her eyes.


• There is a flash of recognition on her face and she nods, ever so slightly.


• Adrian watches the two disappear around the corner.


• He shakes his head and walks forward again.


• Running a hand through his hair, he pulls the tie off completely, and takes one more look down the hall, then rounds the opposite corner and disappears.


• FADE TO BLACK.

343. Fathers and Daughters - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON


• MATTHEW sits at the edge of his bed, a pair of dress shoes on his knees.


• LUCY, his daughter, sits on the bed next to him, another pair of shoes on her knees, trying to look as much like him as possible.


• A little table sits in front of them, Matthew's shoe-shine kit and a glass with a little water neatly laid out on the wooden surface.


• Matthew grabs a can of shoe polish and pops it open, laying the top back on the table.


• MATTHEW
• Alright, now watch carefully. You put just a drop of water in the top, like this.


• He pours water from the glass into the metal tin.


• He grabs a well-worn rag from his hit and taking the wax in one hand he applies wax in a smooth circular motion to the rag.


• Lucy grabs a smaller tin of black wax and quickly copies his action.


• Her motion is unpracticed and jerky.


• MATTHEW
• Smoothly, smoothly. Little circles like this. Ok, good, now see, you have enough? Dip it into the water, just a drop.


• He takes his cloth, the waxed-up section wrapped around his finger, and dabs it carefully into the water.


• A small, perfectly round droplet stands sits on the wax.


• MATTHEW
• See, this is how you do a spit-shine.


• Lucy watches, carefully, quietly.


• He takes the cloth and begins applying it to his left shoe in the same smooth, round motion.


• Lucy copies him.


• The scuffed, shiny surface of the shoes go to a dull, matte, black.


• They work quietly, Lucy following his every motion, polishing the exact same parts of her shoe as he.


• He finishes the left shoe and places it on the table and begins on the right shoe.


• He looks over as Lucy begins her new shoe.


• MATTHEW
• There! You're getting it. Just like my father taught me.


• LUCY
• How old were you?


• MATTHEW
• Oh, I think I was your age.


• Lucy looks at him and wrinkles her nose, trying to imagine him as a nine-year old.


• MATTHEW
• Can't see it can you?


• He pokes her with an elbow and she giggles.


• MATTHEW
• Your grandfather taught me well. When I was a teenager, I worked at a barbershop shining shoes for the guys getting haircuts. Mr. Oglesby's barbershop...


• He keeps polishing quietly, lost in memories.


• LUCY
• You're gonna make me work at a barbershop?


• He pokes her again.


• MATTHEW
• Only if you want.


• They finish their shoes.


• MATTHEW
• Ok, here's the fun part.


• He grabs the left shoe and a thick, black brush, and begins brushing the shoe vigorously in strong, choppy motions.


• Lucy giggles.


• Matthew chuckles at the odd motion.


• MATTHEW
• You try it.


• Lucy grabs her left shoe and begins brushing in exaggerated motions.


• They laugh and he mimics her.


• MATTHEW
• Look, look, you see that?


• As they brush, the matte color of the shoes transforms into a clean, shiny, reflective black.


• LUCY
• Ohhh.


• MATTHEW
• This is my favorite part. Careful there, don't miss the back. Good, good.


• Lucy scoots closer to him and he smiles at her.


• They sit, brushing and laughing in the afternoon sun.


• FADE TO BLACK.

342. The Midnight Visitor - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. NATHAN'S ATTIC OFFICE - NIGHT


• NATHAN sits at his desk, staring off into space, a blank sketch pad in front of him.


• Street lights toss warm light into the room through the large bay window that sits perpendicular to him.


• Vintage art deco and soviet posters cover the wall over the desk.


• He ponders a print of Alphonse Mucha's "Les Saisons" hanging to the left of his desk.


• To his left sits a dusty easel.


• ADRIANA (O.S.)
• Hiya Nate.


• He jerks his head right.


• Adriana sits on the bay window ledge, a teddy bear hanging from one hand, a book, open and and on fire in the other hand.


• Flames lick the pages, but even though Nathan can feel the heat, they don't seem to be burning.


• She is dressed in a black crinoline skirt, a ribbed corset covers a white spaghetti-strapped tanktop, and fingerless black lace gloves that run up to her biceps.


• He stares.


• She waves.


• ADRIANA
• Hi.


• NATHAN
• I don't think I'm going to bother asking how you got in here; but who are you?


• ADRIANA
• Oh, that's not really important. I'm here with a message.


• She walks over to him.


• Nathan leans away from the flames.


• NATHAN
• How are you not burning yourself?


• She smiles at him.


• ADRIANA
• It's time.


• NATHAN
• Excuse me?


• ADRIANA
• When you were five years old, you made a promise that whatever God asked of you when you were all grownup, you would do.


• NATHAN
• Are you kidding me? I was five years - I wasn't serious.


• ADRIANA
• Oh, you were dead serious.


• NATHAN
• So, now He comes calling? That's not fair, I mean, I have a whole life ahead of me. Now I'm supposed to run off and be a monk? Pull the John the Crazy Baptist act?


• ADRIANA
• YYou know what you have to do.


• NATHAN
• I'm not an artist, you know I'm terrible at it.I just go through the motions.


• ADRIANA
• I've heard otherwise. You have the ability to change an entire worldview with one image. You curse God when you refuse to use that gift.


• NATHAN
• I'm no one, just lil' ol' Nathan. And I'm a terrible person, a jerk, really.


• ADRIANA
• I've worked with worse.


• She holds the book out towards him and he leans further back.


• ADRIANA
• Take a page.


• NATHAN
• No way!


• ADRIANA
• Take it.


• He shakes his head.


• She catches his eye and he can't look away.


• ADRIANA
• Take it.


• He reaches out, his hand shaking, turning his face away from the heat.


• His fingers dart forward, then back.


• NATHAN
• It's too hot.


• She just looks at him.


• He takes a breath and reaches inside the flames, yelling in pain as he rips a page out.


• He pulls his hand away, then stops.


• He looks in amazement at his hand, which is free of any blisters or burns.


• The page is gone, but a strange circle of symbols has appeared between his thumb and forefinger.


• ADRIANA
• You know what you're supposed to do.


• She walks back to the window, turns, and smiles at him.


• She turns back to the window and then blows away, her body disintegrating to ash in the evening breeze.


• Nathan watches in awe, then looks at the mark on his hand again.


• He pinches it, wipes at it, then stops and looks over at the dusty easel, then back down to his sketchpad.


• He pulls open a draw and pulls out a well-bitten micron pen, dusty with disuse.


• Smiling a little, he puts pen to paper and begins to draw.


• FADE TO BLACK.

341. A Song for Alys - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. THE HALL OF MORNING - DAY


• ALYS's eyes open, gently at first and then grow wider and wider as she feels the sensation of falling.


• She hits the richly marbled floor of the Hall facing the massive skylights above.


• The rich blue sky through the glass above is thick with stars despite triple suns burning brightly in the day sky.


• She scrambles to her feet.


• She is dressed in a loose skirt and sandals, a bike helmet loosely attached to her head.


• She pulls off the helmet, dark hair spilling out.


• The Hall is lined with deep grottoes and it stretches so far it seems to disappear into its own artificial horizon.


• Alys spins around, trying to get her bearings.


• A low, beautiful hum travels slowly through the halls.


• PERSEPHONE slips out of one grottoes - an androgynous being whose face is shaded by a thick hood.


• PERSEPHONE
• Hello, Alys.


• Alys spins around again.


• ALYS
• Whoa, big creepy dude...dude? I swear, I'm not here on purpose, I think I slipped or something, I uh, really, not here to steal something. I would never come here to do that. Speaking of here, where is here?


• Persephone steps closer, completely dwarfing Alys.


• PERSEPHONE
• Welcome to the Hall of Morning.


• ALYS
• I mean, it's a bit gloomy, but no reason to cry...is there?


• PERSEPHONE
• The earliest period of day, not the act of sorrow.


• ALYS
• Oh, morning. But where exactly is it? I mean, this is ancient and massive, I should know about this right? I mean, I'm not the brightest cookie cutter in the box, but I do love my history.


• PERSEPHONE
• The where is a bit inconsequential.


• ALYS
• Not really. I kind of think it's important to me. Did you kidnap me? I mean, the whole hood certainly plays into the creepy kidnapper vibe. What's your name? If you have some kidnapper name, I swear, if you have a catchy three letter initial, I'm going to scream.


• PERSEPHONE
• I am Persephone.


• ALYS
• The Greek demi-goddess? Really?


• PERSEPHONE
• The Greeks got close at times, but what they didn't know could have filled galaxies. Universes in fact.


• ALYS
• Obviously this line of questioning isn't working.


• PERSEPHONE
• Walk with me.


• Persephone glides down the hallway and Alys rushes to catch up.


• ALYS
• So why is this called the Hall of Morning?


• PERSEPHONE
• This is where the Morning Stars wait.


• ALYS
• Where exactly?


• PERSEPHONE
• Look.


• Persephone points into one of the grottoes.


• Alys walks forward and looks in.


• She gasps.


• Inside is a massive being with with transparent wings wrapped around its chest.


• The wings pulse with light and energy.


• Its eyes are closed.


• ALYS
• What are they waiting for?


• PERSEPHONE
• For someone to finish The Song.


• ALYS
• The song?


• PERSEPHONE
• When The Weaver strung together the universes, they sang a new song. They sang on the first morning when your Father and Mother first breathed. But they have been silenced. Their song hangs, unfinished.


• ALYS
• The humming?


• PERSEPHONE
• The last note they sang.


• ALYS
• How long ago was that? I mean, it's still humming through the halls. Are the young earth people right? Please tell me they aren't - you're breaking too many paradigms as it is right now.


• PERSEPHONE
• Oh child, you humans have nothing to measure how ancient that single note is.


• They walk further, through patches of sunlight, Alys peeking into the grottoes and shaking her head in wonder.


• ALYS
• Wait, you said the song would be finished. Who is going to finish it?


• PERSEPHONE
• You are.


• ALYS
• Excuse me?


• PERSEPHONE
• The children of the dark planet. One day you will all join the Weaver in these halls. One day the shield from your galaxy will be removed and you will join the universes once again. You will know the end of the song. Only you.


• ALYS
• Wow, and here I thought we were just puny little humans.


• PERSEPHONE
• You were given the Gift and only you understand enough to finish the song.


• ALYS
• To finish what the morning began. Wow.


• PERSEPHONE
• It is a great honor.


• ALYS
• Seems like a bit of an understatement there.


• PERSEPHONE
• Perhaps my dear, perhaps.


• ALYS
• I'm not going home, am I?


• PERSEPHONE
• One day darling, but first, you will have to sleep, just a little while.


• They stop in front of a grotto.


• ALYS
• Do I?


• PERSEPHONE
• Just for a little while.


• Alys steps into the grotto, and webs of light appear for a brief instant, encasing her.


• Her eyes widen for a moment and then they close.


• Persephone watches for a moment, then glides away down the hall.


• EXT. CITY STREET - DAY


• Traffic is stopped as people gather around Alys' still body.


• Her bike lies a few feet away; her helmet is crushed.


• THOMAS, a strong-looking man, stands over her weeping.


• THOMAS
• I just didn't see her, I should have seen her, but I didn't, I just didn't. Oh, God.


• A WOMAN stands up, taking her hand off Alys neck and shakes her head.


• Sirens shriek in the distance as they close in.


• Thomas buries his head in hands.


• FADE TO BLACK.

340. Haiku - Christmas Tree Songs

• 1.
  Welcome to my world
  Memories captured in glass balls
  And wrapped in tinsel.


• 2.
  Pine-scented needles
  Crushed softly into carpet
  Smells just like winter.


• 3.
  Wrap, re-wrap those bows
  Spin lights 'round the evergreen
  Glowing firefly seeds.

339. The Death of Alice - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. DOROTHY'S CORNER - DAY


• DOROTHY'S CORNER, a small Silver Lake bookshop is crowded with people all focused intently on KAY, a small Asian woman sitting cross-legged on the floor in the center of the shop, a book in her lap.


• The audience is primarily women, but a few men dot the crowd, including Hank, who listens thoughtfully.


• Her baby face stands out in sharp contrast with the full tattoo sleeves that cover both arms.


• She adjusts the mic, then continues reading.


• KAY
• "But let me tell you a secret, allow me to confess something. Alice died in Wonderland a long time ago. She bled out on a cold floor, surrounded by invisible, uncaring strangers - and as the interlaced patterns on the tile blurred, she smiled."


• Kay pauses then lets out a small breath; she looks up.


• KAY
• Thank you.


• The audience cheers loudly and she stands and gives a small bow.


• Hank works his way through the people crowded around her, and waits as an ADORING WOMAN poses for a picture with her.


• ADORING WOMAN
• Oh thank you, thank you. I can't tell you how much your book really spoke to me.


• KAY
• I'm so glad, thank you.


• The woman moves away and Hank pounces on the gap in fans to push his way through.


• HANK
• Hey, I'm Hank.


• KAY
• Hi, Hank. So, how'd you manage to find your way here? Not really the demographic I usually draw. Wife or girlfriend drag you here?


• HANK
• Single, and I wanted to come. Hadn't read your stuff, hadn't heard of you to be honest, but read about the even online and thought it was something I really wanted to attend. I'm glad I came.


• KAY
• Good.


• HANK
• Hey, I know this is random and spur of the moment, but could I take you out to dinner?


• Kay, pauses, takes a step back, and inspects him, up and down, then smiles a little.


• KAY
• Ok. Where to?


• HANK
• You up for walking a few blocks?


• KAY
• You know, I really like that idea.


• HANK
• I would just like to point out that I could be anybody, and I mean...maybe this isn't the best idea.


• KAY
• Well, that's what my mace and my little toy gun are for.


• HANK
• Alright then.


• KAY
• Let's go.


• HANK
• Don't you have to say goodbyes?


• KAY
• Goodbye everyone! Happy? Let's go.


• They head out of the book store, Kay pausing occasionally to shake someone's hand.


• They finally push their way out onto the street.


• EXT. FOUNTAIN STREET - DAY


• They begin walking east along the street.


• KAY
• So my stuff doesn't scare you? I swear I've seen it send guys into convulsions.


• HANK
• Why would it scare me?


• KAY
• Um, I think I've been described by reviewers as "rabidly feminist," "a ball-crusher," "fearlessly forwarding the female revolution," should I go on?


• HANK
• Are you any of those things?


• KAY
• Hardly a "ball-crusher," maybe rabidly feminist. Well, rabid is such a strong word.


• HANK
• Yeah, well, I'm a pretty rabid feminist at times. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with strong women as well. As long as that strong is balanced. It's people who tilt to extremes in everything that scare me. Or don't temper strength with gentleness.


• KAY
• That's a mouthful.


• HANK
• Eh...


• Kay grins at him.


• KAY
• So why'd you ask me out? Something about ball-crushing turn you on?


• HANK
• I'm thinking, not so much...


• KAY
• So...?


• HANK
• I have a fondness for Alice and a deeper fondness for people who write about her.


• KAY
• It's my tattoos, isn't it?


• HANK
• God, yes.


• KAY
• I'm flattered.


• They walk in silence for a bit.


• HANK
• Hey, we're getting close. I should have asked, do you like vegan?


• KAY
• Only if it's down well.


• HANK
• Good enough.


• KAY
• What frightens you?


• HANK
• Excuse me.


• KAY
• Simple enough question.


• They come to a stop in front of "Teddy's Pub and Vegan Grill."


• HANK
• Mediocrity. I don't want to be rich or famous, I just want to do what I do well. I want to be the guy The Guy depends on. Or The Woman for that matter. The middle scares me.


• KAY
• Yeah.


• HANK
• Why do you ask?


• KAY
• Well, if we take this any further, I'd like to do it with someone who understands my fears.


• HANK
• And?


• KAY
• Let's go have some grilled vegan.


• Hank smiles, genuflects, and opens the door for her.


• They walk in, and the door swings shut with a slow, pneumatic hiss.


• FADE TO BLACK.

338. Threads of Skin - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. MANHATTAN BEACH BOARDWALK - DAY


• BLAKE leans against the railing looking out over the ocean.


• TIM stands next to him, people watching.


• A BRUNETTE walks past them and almost on cue, they turn, primal instincts triggering a reaction.


• Her lips are pressed tight together and she is biting the inside of her lip ever so slightly.


• She moves away from every person who passes her, just barely, but with enough force to see as if a magnet was repelling her.


• Tim looks over at Blake.


• Blake has gone expressionless.


• TIM
• Oh, for goodness sake. You and fragile girls.


• BLAKE
• She was so fragile. Like the slightest brush of a hand would make her dissolve into ash. It's as if she's already broken into millions of tiny pieces, just barely held together by threads of skin.


• TIM
• You know, it's almost pornographic the way you fetishize women in pain.


• BLAKE
• I don't fetishize. I'm constantly intrigued. Because the strength it takes to hold yourself together, just barely, is amazing to me.


• TIM
• Huh...it's more like you get some kind of odd joy...not sadistic, but still, some odd joy from that kind of pain. It's really disturbing.




• BLAKE
• You know I don't get pleasure out of it. There is an emotion I experience. I can't name it, there are thousands of emotions without names - they'll never have names. And yeah, this one shares some of the twinges of...joy, but it's not joy. It's bittersweetness....for lack of anything else. There are strands of joy and pain and sickness all pulled tight together. I, I'm not making much sense am I?


• TIM
• I'm sure you are to someone out there.


• Blake turns back to the ocean and Tim to the sidewalk.


• FADE TO BLACK.

337. The Things We Hide - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. JORDAN AND SCOTT'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM - DAY


• JORDAN bursts through the front door, arms loaded with groceries.


• EVAN's head snaps around, then back to his computer monitor.


• He fumbles with the mouse, then gives up, slamming a finger into the monitor's power button.


• The monitor goes black with a loud, electronic sigh.


• EVAN
• I, uh...man, I'm sick of this computer crashing.


• JORDAN
• Yeah.


• Jordan disappears into the kitchen.


• He reappears after a moment, entering the living carefully.


• Sliding onto the couch, he takes a good breath.


• JORDAN
• I'm sorry.


• EVAN
• Uh, what?


• JORDAN
• I know the guy rule says you don't mention anything and act as if nothing just happened, but you know I know.


• Evan is silent.


• JORDAN
• Man, I struggle with the same stuff. And it's not just a boredom thing. I fight this every day. I could use the support and I guess you could too.


• EVAN
• Look...


• JORDAN
• Nah, don't say anything, just think about it. I know you well enough to believe that we're in about the same boat. I know what it feels like, that itch sets in, and you just need it scratched, it just sinks its teeth in. Hmm...that's a mixed metaphor if I ever heard one.


• He scratches his head.


• JORDAN
• The point is, I get it. And you're fighting for dear life, and nothing's working. So let's try helping each other out.


• He stands.


• JORDAN
• I, I uh, I'm going to go unpack the groceries Ok? It'll take me a bit.


• He walks back into the kitchen.


• Evan watches him go, then lets out a long, shaky breath.


• He turns to the computer and puts his finger on the monitor's power button.


• He holds his breath for a moment, then shakes his head and hits the computer's reset button with his toe.


• FADE TO BLACK.

336. Another Night in Paradise - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• INT. #2 BUS SUNSET BLVD - NIGHT


• The bus pulls alongside the curb and its doors hiss open.


• WILL steps onto the bus, shrugging his sagging backpack into a more comfortable position on his back.


• He plays around with his left earphone, trying to get it to sit more comfortably while he counts out five quarters from his pocket and slides them into the electronic cash box.


• The box beeps and the box takes off with a lurch as Will walks carefully to an empty seat and collapses with a sigh into the seat.


• The bus is half-empty, a COUPLE in quiet conversation at the front, and a few denizens of the homeless community scattered around the seats.


• LUCKY sits in the back, her yellow hair spilling around her face.


• MRS. MILLICENT PETTIGREW watches Will skeptically from behind her massive purple sunglasses, the rims of which are two large, perfect circles which dwarf her already diminutive face.


• Will glances at her quickly out out of the side of his eye and tries not to smile.


• She is dressed head to toe in purple, from her glasses, to her velvety coat, to her lavender sneakers; her purse is a large affair, made of clear, purple plastic.


• The bus slides into the next stop.


• The doors hiss open and ANGIE D'AMATO steps onboard.


• She is dressed in a loose t-shirt under a half-open zip-up sweatshirt, pajama bottoms, and house slippers.


• She scans the bus seats, then picks a seat in the middle.


• Turning around she waves at the people beyond her.


• ANGIE
• Hey rock stars! It's another night in paradise. What's good? Nothing better to do than ride the buses.


• LUCKY
• It's a tough town.


• ANGIE
• Tell me about it, sister. Where you coming from?


• LUCKY
• House of Blues.


• ANGIE
• Nice. You know Arnold Schwarzenegger?


• LUCKY
• He's the governor now.


• ANGIE
• Yeah, I met him a few years ago there. He was nice enough, kept hitting on the bartenders though.


• Will surreptitiously slips an earphone out in order to listen closer.


• LUCKY
• Hey, you seem nice enough...could I get your number? I could use a girlfriend.


• ANGIE
• Sure, friends are hard to come by.


• LUCKY
• Yeah, I just don't really have any, so, you know, it'd be nice to have someone to call up.


• She slips out of her seat.


• She wears a cheap, clingy black dress with a sequined belt pushed low on her hip, and walks skillfully to Angie's seat in her black stilettos.


• ANGIE
• 323-555-6745. Just give me a call whenever, you know. What's your name?


• LUCKY
• Lucky.


• ANGIE
• Oh! I like that. I'm Angie.


• LUCKY
• Yeah, it's hard meeting good people.


• ANGIE
• Yeah! But I know why.


• LUCKY
• Why?


• ANGIE
• It's Hollywood!


• The two break out in loud laughter.


• LUCKY
• You meet some crazy people out here.


• ANGIE
• Tell me about it. I was at a girlfriend's place and some dude offered $1,000 to the girl who would shave his beard and pubic hair?


• LUCKY
• God...


• ANGIE
• Yeah, I'd do that. No sex though.


• The TIRED MAN sitting in front of them jerks his head up.


• LUCKY
• Man, I'd step all over him and whip him if some guy would pay.


• He giggles in disbelief - the women ignore him.


• ANGIE
• Nah, you gotta draw a line. Shaving, yeah...the rest of that stuff, just gets too messy.


• LUCKY
• I got offered a ton of money to beat the crap out of a guy and leave him in the desert.


• ANGIE
• Seriously?


• LUCKY
• Yeah, but that brings up bad stuff. I left my husband because he was beating on me. I didn't go down easy though, not like a lot of women. I fought back.


• ANGIE
• Me too! I met my husband after a car accident.


• LUCKY
• How's that?


• ANGIE
• I came here to act, used to get in accidents with fancy cars in West Hollywood. You get out and act all sorry, but maybe you meet a producer or something, you never know.


• LUCKY
• So did it ever work for you?


• ANGIE
• Nah, just got me a husband.


• LUCKY
• And he beat you.


• ANGIE
• Yeah, but I didn't go down easy either. I got sick of my head getting bashed into a wall and fought back. Served time for that.


• LUCKY
• But why? That's self defense.


• The bus begins to slow.


• ANGIE
• Yeah, but when it's on an airplane and the stewardesses have to restrain you and you get kicked off...


• LUCKY
• Ohhhh.


• The bus stops and the doors squeal open.


• Will glances back at the women, at his watch, back at the women, then sighs, pops his headphones back in, and stands.


• He nods to the driver and gets off the bus.


• FADE TO BLACK.