A Thank You Note

It's been quite a year - I just wanted to thank everyone whose been involved in this project in some way or another. Thank you to everyone who read and encouraged us on our journey.

There are a few people I want to thank by name.

Eric, thanks so much for joining me in this crazy idea - I'm ridiculously happy that a script of yours was actually shot - what an amazing opportunity...may there be many more.

Marjorie, thanks for inspiring some of my favorite characters, being a thoughtful reader, and always having great critiques. You've managed to keep me in awe this year with your bravery - I hope some of those characters do you justice.

Kris, you always had a thoughtful comment and were always ready with a perspective I hadn't considered. You were always ready with a smirk, a retort, and a willingness to get lost in a story.

Lizzy, thank you for reading and your wise insights - you have the ability to make me pause and reconsider what I've just written and then write it better the next time.

Adam, thanks for reading, for your comments - your mild horror at some of the scripts, your sharing of ideas. Thanks for believing in one of our scripts enough to produce it.

Lennox, thanks for the constant encouragement; thank you for the enthusiasm and joy you dedicated to reading these scripts.

Darlene, Thank you, thank you, thank you - you showed up a little later into this project but boy did you support it. Thank you for reading, discussing these little stories, thank you for your excitement and the energy that helped power this experiment to the end.

To everyone again, thanks for reading. My blog The Nomad Chronicles comes back online this New Year, so y'all stop by now, y'hear?

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 placed in front of each ear.


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


• Ariel straightens and pulls off 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.


• 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.