Fluorescent lights and the buzz of phone calls fill the air in this high-rise in downtown.

At a small cube sits CHRIS (late 20s, handsome, bookish). He arranges his things on his blank desk from a brown box on the floor.

Into the cubicle opening steps EMILLION (late 30s, smiling, black, pragmatically dressed). He imitates binoculars to spy on Chris.

And here we see the brand new baby bird settling into its nest. It will one day mature into a beautiful sales-man-swan.

Emillion, Thanks for helping me settle in, but.. House calls on the first day?

You already memorized the speech, right?

Yes, of course I did.

And you look pretty good. So what’s the problem?

I don’t know... I just don’t feel ready.

You’re ready enough! Look, we’re gonna have lunch at Woo’s today, so you can look forward to that. It’s a tradition.

...I suppose there’s that.

Come on! Woo’s!

Woo’s?

Oh don’t tell me you’ve never been to Woo’s.

Okay, I won’t tell you then.

(with joy)

So that’s how it’s gonna be... Alright. I’m watching you baby bird. Chirp Chirp mother fucker.

Emillion does the ‘I’m watching you’ fingers.

MONTAGE:

The two men walk to the grey porch and rap on the door.

An OLD WOMAN in a worn nightgown peers through the window blinds, carting along her medical monitor stand. She inspects them for a moment before she opens the door for them.

How can I help you boys?

Hello there Miss, We’re from Dignity Trust. --

Chris and Emillion stand outside a screen door while a redneck spits tobacco into a foam cup.

-- We understand that you’re in dire straits --

Chris talks to a man at the smoke filled bar of a bowling alley. Emillion bowls grandma style behind them.

-- Both financially and physically. --

Chris and Emillion sit in an empty church with FATHER PERRY (greying, mid-life, priest). Father Perry’s face is racked with worry.

-- And we’re here to provide a way to ease your current burden. --

A verdant garden right outside the hospital. Chris and Emillion walk along side a frail teenager in a wheelchair.

-- What we do is one hundred percent legal and moral. We are not here to prey upon those less fortunate. --

Chris and Emillion sit with a wrinkled dancer at the bar. She smokes the last nub of a cigarette, snuffs it, and lights up another.

-- We provide needed financial assistance for whatever you need. Medical treatment, Bills, It’s up to you really. --

Chris and Emillion stand over an old, bearded, farmer as he milks his cow.

-- In essence, sir, we pay you cash for your life insurance policy. --

END MONTAGE:

A 1950’s chrome diner that serves Chinese food. Emillion and Chris eat from white cartons, seated in shiny red booths.

Not bad for our first day on the road. I scored a couple of policies and we covered a lot of ground.

Thanks. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. I’m excited we closed with Father Perry. He looked like he was so exhausted. You know?

Yea, just a bit. But he’ll enjoy his vacation once everything is signed and done.

We can only pray that a miracle doesn’t happen. Right? It’d be bad for business if he doesn’t actually die.

Uhhh.

Sorry. I’m joking.

Oh.

Emillion offers one polite chuckle. Chris digs back into his food.

You just remember that I closed on father Perry. You still haven’t gotten your first person yet, Rookie.

Chris sighs and gives Emillion a defeated look.

Just gotta keep flappin’ them wings baby bird. Chirp chirp.

Emillion makes a wing flapping gesture.

(to self)

That’s gonna get old.

Chris and Emillion sweat as they stand in front of the door in a wooden stairwell.

SARAH (mid 30s, beautiful, bald, bohemian), answers the door. Her movements are honest and soft. She regards the men for a moment, then speaks.

Well...Come on in.

She walks back inside and leaves the door open for them.

Hello, Ma’am we’re with Dig--

--I said come in.

Oh? Uh...

Chris sends a tentative glance to Emillion.

It’s best to do what the lady says I think.

They shamble into her apartment.

The main fixture on a sparse white plaster wall is a naked photo of Sarah in her prime. She’s tastefully posed and covered in purple paint in the photo.

Would you boys like some coffee?

Yes, please.

The men follow Sarah into the

KITCHEN

Somehow both messy and barren. Sarah scours the cupboards for three coffee mugs and retrieves them. Emillion and Chris file in after her.

She prepares the coffee and Chris steels himself for his speech.

Ma’am, we’re from a company called Dignity Trust Viatical Settlements. We understand that you’re in difficult times, physically and financially and we’re here to ease your current burden. What we do is one hundred percent legal and moral, and we are not here to prey upon those less fortunate. We provide needed financial assistance for whatever you need. Medical treatment, Bills. Whatever. It’s up to you really. In essence, we--

Hold on a second.

Sarah puts down her coffee making supplies and turns to them. She closes her eyes and pauses. A small smile appears on her face.

It sounds like you’re trying to scam me or something.

No. Not at all. It’s... It’s a simple and honest thing that we do for people who are in need--

--You mean dying. Right?

She looks Chris square in the face.

All this infomercial banter makes you sound so full of shit. Be straight with me.

Emillion chuckles. Sarah turns her ire on him now, still cool as a cucumber.

And who are you? Hmm? His bullshit bodyguard.

I’m his coworker. This is his first day doing house calls. And you are the first person to really make him sweat.

I’m sorry Ma’am --

It’s Sarah.

Sarah, I’m sorry if we offended you. It’s just an offer to help make things less burdensome for you.

Sarah rummages around her cabinets to try and find a full canister of coffee grounds.

She loads her coffee maker and turns it on.

...I suppose could use the money though, things are running a little thin.

Chris takes out a business card and offers it to Sarah. She leans on the opposing counter, away from his hand.

Let us know if you have any questions or if you’d like to get started. Okay?

Sarah steps into Chris’s personal space and clamps onto his outstretched hand holding the card.

She takes one hand and removes his card. Inspects it. She still holds on to Chris with the other hand, invading his bubble.

Christopher Graves? Hmm? An ironic name, don’t you think?

...Uh, Thank you ma’am...

It’s Sarah. My name is Sarah and I’m a real woman who is really dying. So say my fucking name.

Uhh...Sarah.

Better.

She pushes his card back into his hands and closes his palm with force. She starts pouring the coffee into the cups.

So how do you feel about taking advantage of people who are at their most vulnerable? Hmm? Let me guess... You offer them pennies on the dollar in a bet that they die before you pay out more than they’re worth. Right? It’s the only way that makes sense.

Well, in essence, yes, that’s what we do Sarah. But what you do with that money can be very beneficial. Some people take that trip they’ve been wanting to do their whole lives. Some use it on experimental treatments they can’t get in the States. Stem cell trials in Brazil and such. I know it seems cold to look at it like this, but it’s a business arrangement. You get something you need and I get to make a living. It’s nothing personal, just an opportunity...if you’d like it, that is. We meant no offense to you.

Chris still holds his card in his hand, crumpled now. He’s frozen for a moment in fearful wonder. Then puts his card back in his pocket.

...I’ll think about it...

You should know we also have an estate buyout that we can do. Do you have any property you might have that’s of worth? Like your paintings here? I’m sure we could find some collectors that would be very interested in them for the right price.

She hands everyone mugs and leans on the opposing counter. She sips and gestures to Emillion with her mug.

Your partner here is much better on his feet. You’re a bit wooden. New Guy.

Hey...First week still. Remember?

Emillion sips his coffee and leans on the counter, at ease. Chris stands and holds his with two rigid hands.

It’s not going to bite you handsome.

Sorry, I’m not much of a coffee guy.

So why didn’t you say so?

I didn’t want to be rude.

I don’t have much time for folks who are afraid of being a little rude. Take a sip already.

Chris looks down to his cup with trepidation.

Come on now... Don’t be bashful.

He takes a sip and forces a smile.

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head.

(to Emillion, pointing at Chris)

This guy. Right? What a robot.

Hey!

Emillion takes another sip, takes his business card out of a metal tin in his pocket, and hands it to Sarah.

Here you go Miss Sarah, in case you want to contact me. It’ll be a delight to work with you, if that’s what you’d like.

I appreciate it, but I’d rather have *his* card.

She motions to Chris.

Oh, okay? I’m sorry if I offended you, that was not my intent.

It’s not that at all. He’s cuter and more interesting to fuck with. Did you see how I made him flinch?

Emillion chuckles. Chris absently hands her his crumpled card and puts his full mug down in her sink.

Now if you boys will excuse me, I have a busy day ahead of me, unless you two want to come get breakfast.

I’m afraid we have a few more houses to visit before we can quit for the day. Chris here looks forward to hearing from you. Right Chris?

Uh.. Yes. I look forward to hearing from you.

(Sarcastic)

How delightful, and I look forward to hearing from you two scam artists later on too. Maybe about some land in the alaskan wilderness?

She walks them both out the front door and closes it with vigor.

(to self)

Well. At least he was pretty cute.

She tosses Chris’s card on a side table with a bunch of other junk on it.

There’s a blue dolphin shaped air freshener inside Emillion’s slick new sedan.

She really had you by the balls Chris. You gotta loosen up a little. Roll with the punches.

Chris ponders out the window.

Maybe I’m just no good at this.

That’s not the right attitude to take man. You’re going to hear ‘No’ a lot going from house to house like this. You just had a rough time dealing with a live wire. Don’t get too down about it.

Emillion changes the radio station.

Most of the folks that we deal with are like what you’ve been seeing. Old people. They either really need the money, or they’re in denial and tell you to get off their porch.

She seemed really lively though. How’s that possible if she’s so sick?

No way. She’s in denial like the rest of them. She’s just showing it differently. Trust me on this one; I know how these kind of people operate. I’ve seen how their minds churn.

It’s just surprising is all... I wasn’t expecting it.

Yea. You’ll get the hang of it. Well. Here we are.

Emillion pulls up to the office parking lot and parks. Chris opens the door.

By the way, Frank asked us to drop by the cemetery tomorrow. It’s part of your first week.

This doesn’t sound good. Am I fired?

You’re not fired. Everybody does this their first week. It’s all good.

Chris gets out and Emillion rolls down the window.

(shouting)

Just remember to wear something black.

(shouting)

What?

Emillion starts to roll off.

(shouting)

Wear something black!

(to self)

Something black?

A brick and mortar no frills diner. Sarah sits in a booth across from ECHO (late 30s, a granola hippie woman) wears eyeglasses with a cord made of hemp.

Your aura is looking lovely today Sarah. I’m very pleased.

Oh really? What color am I today?

Echo stretches her hands out and takes Sarah’s hands. Echo inspects them and puts close to her face.

Burnt Umber. I think.

Oh, thank you Echo! I appreciate it. The art fundraiser is tomorrow night and burnt umber is just my color.

About that... I can’t make it anymore.

What? You promised!

I got scheduled at the coffee shop. Sorry babe.

Ugh. Now I’m going to have to go alone and Tom’s gonna be there!

That fucker.

Just saying his name makes me want to attack.

Tom.

Grrrr.

TOM!

The WAITER (late 40’s, in the style of a old sea captain), walks by at just the right moment.

Are we ready to order--

GRRRR!!

Sarah lunges at the waiter. He jumps back, startled.

I’ll come back.

The waiter hurriedly leaves.

You just had your biggest showing and you can’t land a date?

Meh. I don’t need a date.

Oh come on. You don’t want to show up bald and without a date.

Alright. Number one, I can be just as beautiful bald as anyone else and number two, I thought we lived in the fucking future where women don’t need a date to be ‘complete’ at a party.

Alright Sarah, relax on the soapbox for a second. I’m just saying that it’ll be easier to rub Tom’s face in the dirt with a handsome accessory. That’s all. So either get a date or a muscular handbag.

For a hippie, you’re far too ’1950’s sometimes.

The waiter comes back, guarded by his pen and pad.

What can I get for you ladies?

I’d like the fruit melange with a breakfast tea.

I’ll have the candy bacon and waffle pile with a black coffee.

Anything else?

Yea. Do you think a woman needs to take a date out to a fundraiser in this day and age.

Lady. I’m just here to take your orders.

Then I order you to tell me.

Jesus.

The waiter shakes his head disgustedly and walks off.

I can’t believe you’re back to eating meat. I just don’t really know what to do with you.

So What? What’s the big deal? It’s delicious.

Well. Meat is definitely no good for you. And all the gluten! It’s no good for your health.

Echo. I have a brain tumor. It doesn’t really matter what my cholesterol is anymore. Okay? I could eat pig brains for every meal if I wanted to.

Yuck. I know. But did you have to be so graphic...I never thought that I’d have to watch you go through this. It’s the kind of shit that happens to other people, or in lifetime movies.

Eck, honey. It’s gonna be okay. Just relax.

Uh... But it’s not.

Fine. If you’re so scared, then you don’t have to watch... Here.

She reaches across the table and puts Echo’s hands over her eyes. Echo smirks.

This isn’t funny Sarah! You have to take this more seriously.

(mocking)

You have to take this seriously.

Seriously!

Seriously!!!

You’re making a scene!

Sarah mocks at one hundred and ten percent.

You’re making a scene!!!

The two break into guffaws together. The patrons in the restaurant gawk. The waiter walks back over with drinks.

Here’s your drinks...

The waiter rolls his eyes and slumps back off to the kitchen.

There’s no treatment or anything in some other country that you could do?

Nope. There’s nothing out there that would keep me... Me. you know?

And there’s no chance of you getting better?

I’m just buying myself time now Eck. Marching in place.

Aren’t you scared?

I’m terrified.

You don’t seem terrified.

I’m sorry that I’m not sufficiently terrified for your approval.

Echo makes a big face at Sarah.

The waiter walks back over with plates of food.

Wow that was fast.

Can’t say I’ve heard that before.

Sarah and Echo can’t contain their guffaws after looking at each other.

An eclectic and smokey bar. Chris perches on a stool at the bar and cowers over his beer.

In through the door walks JACOB (late 20’s, chunky, bespectacled), in a hoodie.

He motions to the bartender and sits next to Chris.

Well you’re more chipper than usual today.

The new job is depressing as fuck.

Sounds scintillating.

Hardly. Dying people for miles.

Well, it could be worse. You could have a big box publisher breathing down your neck to make some hack vampire novel.

Oh, What I would give to get paid to write a hack novel!

A beer appears in front of Jacob, he sips it.

So, Yes, That’s what qualifies as a bad day now for me. Sorry. If you want my job so bad then you’re going to have to MacBeth me soon. But after this beer please.

Wanna trade instead?

No. Fuck yourself. Have you figured out what you are doing about Kayla?

No.

Jesus Christ you should really figure that out.

Yea. I know. I’m being really shitty about it to her, but I just don’t know what to do when It seems I’ve fallen out of love.

Ugh. Who’s writing the hack romance novel in here? I feel... tingly. Bad tingly.

Alright. I get it.

Alright then. Got any pages? I got nineteen.

Nothing from me today. Let’s go.

Okay, but don’t make it a habit. Bring something.

Jacob produces twenty rumpled pages from his hoodie and lays them on the bar. They start reading through them together.

Chapter One. A somber, black clad ceremony around an open plot contains the remains of the devastated Harrison family, decimated, but still handsome and beautiful as the day they were first inoculated from death--

A somber, black clad ceremony around an open plot. Many of the attending party are older. The children of the deceased sit in the front, nearest to the casket.

Father Perry holds open his Bible and reads aloud from it to the gathered.

--For we all are born in the arms of god. We are raised as children to hold his hand. We walk with him as adults in our prime. We sit in meditation with him in our old age, and now Norman again rests in his arms. Let us not forget the endless cycle of life and death is a part of his plan. His design for man. Psalm twenty three, chapter four, says “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;” Amen.

Amen.

The casket is lowered into the ground.

LATER

People mill about at the grave site. Among them is are black clad Chris and Emillion.

FRANK EASTON (early 50s, overweight, boisterous, suited), walks up to the two.

Frank, good to see you.

Good to see you two as well.

I don’t mean to be disrespectful Mr. Easton, but what’s this about?

Please call me Frank. I want you to see how hard this job can get. One day, you might have to do what I’m about to do. Keep your eyes on me son.

Frank give Chris the “click-click” gun fingers.

Frank walks away to the children of the deceased.

They are ISSAC (40’s) and his young trophy wife KENDRA (20’s) and Issac’s sister JANET (40’s).

Hello, there, I’m sorry for your loss.

Thank you very much.

Frank and Issac shake hands.

I’d like to introduce myself, I’m Frank Easton from Dignity Trust Viatical Settlements, your father Norman made arrangements with us to take his life insurance payment upon his death as well as portions of his estate in exchange for an upfront lump sum. I’m sure that he discussed this with you before signing the paperwork, right?

I’m sorry...I’m a bit shaken up right now. What did you say?

Frank produces some paperwork from his suit jacket and starts to look through it.

He signed over his life insurance and some of the estate over for a lump sum. No family heirlooms I’m sure, just the... Cars, Boat, and Real Estate.

A small hysteria sweeps over the family. They all speak over each other.

That can’t be possible, I am the recipient of the estate.

--This explains those last minute trips to vegas--

--This is so typical of him. What a selfish, money grubbing bas--

--That’s rich coming from y--

--Oh, What did you say? Bi--

--Janet! Kendra!--

AWAY FROM THE ARGUMENT

Emillion turns to Chris.

(whispering)

This is pretty typical.

(whispering)

This is terrible.

Emillion turns his back to the conversation with Frank and elaborates to Chris.

(whispering)

Actually, I take that back, it’s pretty typical for people who want to take their money and do nuts. The ones who fly out to south america and get experimental treatment usually have the full support of their whole family. That looks very different. They’re very thankful for what we do, but we don’t get as good of a rate from them.

(whispering)

Rate?

(whispering)

You know. Turn over rate.

(whispering)

... turn over rate...

By now the argument with Frank is causing a scene and several of the attending party come over to find out what the issue is.

A mess of clothes and books lie around Chris’s room. The dresser has been half emptied and the bedside table has been ransacked.

Chris takes off his suit. As he is half dressed, he gets a call on his cell phone. He looks befuddled at the screen, but picks up.

Hello?

You’re handsome. Right? What are you up to tonight? I need a date to the art charity ball. I also need a ride. But that’s just a coincidence.

Kayla? No wait... Who is this? Who do I know that would be lush enough to day drink themselves into this kind of state.

Sarah paces around the apartment in a bra and jeans, phone in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

What? I’m not drinking!

She looks at the glass and sets it down on the table.

Hmm... Ashley would drink and lie about it, but she isn’t this forward. Who is this?

It’s Sarah.

INTERCUT HOUSES

I’m sorry, Who?

Sarah Thompson. You came to my house and tried to scam my life insurance from me and you refused to drink my coffee. You fucking lout!

Oh shit It’s you! I mean. I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t know who this was.

Sarah.

What?

Call me Sarah. If you call me Ma’am one more time I’m gonna whoop your ass.

Sarah sits on her kitchen counter and kicks her feet in the air.

Uh...Sarah. I didn’t expect a call from you...

Most men would be so lucky. Am I right?

Chris croaks out a laugh.

So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?

Chris flops on his bed and expels his shoes.

You. Me. Art Party. One Hour. Yes?

What?

You. Me. Art. Party. One. Hour... Here’s the part where you say ‘yes’.

Chris looks over at his alarm clock.

Yes.

Look handsome. Come over.

She hangs up before he has a chance to answer.

Chris sits back up in his bed and puts himself back together. He walks over to his closet sized bathroom and checks himself in the mirror.

Outside the door, Chris walks up in a nice suit. He knocks on the door, but it swings open.

Hello?

Hey there handsome! Have a drink while I get ready.

(whispering)

What am I getting myself into?

He goes into the

KITCHEN

Chris rounds the corner to the kitchen. An empty bottle of red wine lies spent on the counter. He inspects it with uncertainty.

(shouting)

Do you have anything to drink?

(whispering)

Anything you haven’t already gotten into, that is?

BATHROOM

Sarah sits on the toilet and brushes her teeth, nude.

(shouting, toothbrush in mouth)

Check the cabinet over the fridge.

KITCHEN

Chris grabs a chair from the kitchen table and plants it over by the refrigerator. He roots around on top of it.

Are you sure it’s up here? I can’t find a damn thing.

Are you looking hard enough? Over the re-fridge-er-ator.

Chris knocks around some candles, paper plates, and napkins.

(shouting)

There’s nothing here. I’m sure.

Ugh!

Sarah comes walking in toothbrush in hand, naked. Chris is shocked.

Move.

Chris moves away and can’t stop staring. Sarah shuffles the chair over to in front of the oven, climbs up, and pulls out a bottle of rum. She hands it to Chris with disdain.

Right where I told you it was.

She trots off, smirking.

Chris, wide eyed, pours himself a small drink, thinks better of it, makes it a double. Downs it and leaves the bottle on the counter.

He skulks back to the main room and pulls out the insurance transfer papers from his suit jacket. He takes a drink and inspects them.

INSERT - Chris’s legal papers. The legal documentation for a life insurance transfer.

I’m almost ready!

Okay!

Chris absently sets the paperwork on the couch and straightens himself out.

Every nook and cranny is full of artifacts and science exhibits. A large set of tyrannosaurus bones serve as the centerpiece of the room.

People mill about in suits and dresses. Everyone looks fantastic.

Chris and Sarah walk into the room, arm in arm. Sarah looks gorgeous in a deep blue dress and Chris looks charming in his suit. They clean up well.

(whispering)

Everyone here looks so put together, are you sure we’re at the art fundraiser? Nobody seems as... crazy as you are.

(whispering)

That’s because nobody here *is* as crazy as I am. I’m the queen of all these plebeians, and they shall bow to me, their crazy goddess.

MARIA (late 50s, silver hair, wild eyes), walks up to them.

Hello there Sarah Thompson! Good to see you. I loved your gallery showings this year! They were quite prestigious and quite prodigious. What you’re doing with mixed media is wonderful and I’m glad that you could join us tonight! If you keep on track, next year should be a big breakthrough year for you!

It’s good to see you too! You’re looking radiant tonight. How are your boys?

Rambunctious rascals as usual. I’m afraid I must go and prepare for my presentation, but would you stop by and have a chit chat with me sometime? I’d love to pick your brains.

Maria walks off. Chris steals a glance at Sarah.

(whispering)

Did she just say she wanted to pick your brains?

(whispering)

I know...Right? I have no idea why I’m being so nice to everyone, I’m dying, after all. It’s my time to go crazy.

(whispering)

Well you seem to be fine to me. Are you sure you’re really dying?

(whispering)

I’m on some great medications...Add one bottle of wine and I feel like a champ. The doctors say I’ll be fine until it’s too late and then I’ll be a seizing, frothing mess.

Sarah makes a crazy face at Chris and tries her best to foam at the mouth.

(whispering)

Okay. I get it. Calm down.

Sarah ratchets it up a notch.

(louder)

Oh yea. I’m a regular ol’ yeller...Please paw. Please! Don’t make me put down ol’ yeller!

Chris tries to calm down Sarah’s hysterics.

(whispering)

Alright. I get it, quit! People are gonna see you.

Sarah starts limping around.

(louder)

Oh no! It’s gotten too far into his brains pa! You gotta put him down!

The crowd has noticed her.

Chris guffaws and slaps his knee falsely.

HA! Great one Sarah! I loved that movie.

Sarah wipes her face off.

It wasn’t my best ol’ yeller impression, but I’m working on it.

Chris grabs Sarah’s hand and they wander over to a table full of hors d’oeuvres.

At least it seems like you’re taking it pretty well. Joking around and making scenes wherever you go.

Nah. I’m up right now. Down is coming soon.

What does that mean?

It’s a cycle, you know. A lot of creative types have it. You’ll be up one minute and then really down the next. It’s just something you have to learn to live with.

TOM (30’s, lanky, pseudo intellectual), saunters over to them.

If it isn’t Sarah-berra?

Thomas.

I thought that was you. What happened to your hair?

I shaved it all off.

Well, You always were one for high dramatics.

It was falling out anyways.

Wow. So chemo is going well?

It’s going great... Was going great..

So it’s done?

Yep. I’m all through with it.

That’s great to hear.

Actually, I’m sorry, she has--

--I’m sorry. And who might you be?

Christopher Graves, nice to meet you.

Sarah grabs a couple of drinks off a passing platter and downs them. She forces one into Chris’s hands.

Thomas Carding, at your service. Sarah and I used to be art partners back in the day. How do you know her?

Well I’m from a comp--

--He’s my date tonight. We’re going to make ravenous love later. Like wild animals. I’m going to be the cheetah and he will be my wild baboon.

...Fascinating.

Yes. We picked that because I always want it faster and his ass is red.

...Well, Uh... It’s nice to meet you Tom. I’m glad to hear of your involvement in Sarah’s projects. From what I’ve seen she’s very talented.

Chris turns and stiffly lurches off to the food table. Sarah turns to Tom.

(whispers)

You son of a bitch, you think you can just stroll over to me after the shit you’ve pulled with me.

Sarah, What are you talking about?

I’m talking promises Tom. I’m talking about the promises you made to me. About a fucking future.

What? I never promised you anything.

Yea you did.

Sarah storms off.

A loud clinking of glasses summons the crowd’s attention and allows Sarah to stop off to go find Chris.

On a small stage at the front of the room, Maria stands next to a large Van der Graaf generator. (A Van der Graaf generator is the metal sphere on a stand that makes your hair stand on end.)

Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered tonight to hold our annual fundraiser for science and arts. I know each of you hold in your heart a...

Sarah finds Chris in the crowd and strikes up a conversation as Maria continues her speech.

(whispering)

So what was that about? An ex boyfriend?

(whispering)

Yea, how’d you know?

(whispering)

It was obvious.

(whispering)

I sure know how to pick ‘em.

Sarah grabs Chris’s hand and squeezes it.

(whispering)

Hey, come on.

(whispering)

Come on what?

(whispering)

Ask me again later if you’re lucky. Quit asking so many questions and let’s go dammit.

Sarah quietly leads Chris to the rear of the crowd and out the back door, unnoticed.

Sarah and Chris wander around the museum exhibits in the dark. Sarah marvels at a massive Newton’s Cradle. (The 5 balls on a string that knock back and forth) It sits at rest.

The size of the pendulums are about a meter in diameter and made out of metal.

Chris wanders off and inspects an exhibit.

Hey, come help me with this.

Chris turns and sees Sarah eyeing the massive exhibit.

Uh...What?

I said come help me with this!

Alright!

Chris skulks over to her.

I’ve always wanted to play with one of these things.

It has to weigh a ton.

Well, If it didn’t, I could have done it without you. Now come on.

Isn’t this trespassing?

Yes. Who cares. We were invited in for the fundraiser anyway, right? So...We’re good.

Sarah and Chris heave with all their might to move the pendulum. They hold it back and look at each other.

One.

Two... THREE!

It hurtles to the line of other balls. It strikes with a mighty WHAM!

Maria has her hand on the Van der Graaf generator. Her hair sticks up on end. She looks puzzled.

-- art can excite young minds--

WHAM! The sound startles several dapper and beautiful people into dropping their drinks.

WHAM! Puzzled chatter. From the entry way, several security guards rush through the crowd.

Chris and Sarah hold their ears and watch with a pained expression. The metal balls go ballistic against each other.

WHAT DID WE UNLEASH!?

WE SHOULD GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE THEY COME LOOKING FOR US!

JESUS CHRIST! LET’S GO!

They run further into the museum just in time as guards jog in. They run into the

EGYPTIAN ROOM

Scale models of ancient pyramids and examples of tools used in the bronze period.

In one corner a pharaoh’s sarcophagus lies on wooden planks. Mannequins are posed around it as if they were creating it.

Chris jumps into it and pulls Sarah in after him. She shuts the lid and they breathe heavily in the darkness. The guards search through the room as they whisper to each other.

Excuse you.

Excuse *you*. You’re the one who got us into this mess.

And you’re the one who said yes to the whole thing.

I had no choice.

Bullshit.

The guards sound closer now. Sarah stares at Chris, smirks.

Still... I wonder what it’s like to make it with the Pharaoh.

Oh, This is hardly the--

--I’m just a lowly slave woman and I have no idea what it would be like to... see the royal serpent--

-- Wha--

-- The treasure of the pharaohs--

-- What are you talk--

-- the curse of Tutankhamen.

Sarah giggles, wild and drunk. She kisses Chris and he softens to the advance.

In the distance the balls still clang. WHAM!

A pale, oily, disheveled Chris sits at his desk. He nurses a Gatorade and a breakfast egg sandwich.

Frank, in suspenders, waddles out of his corner office and into the main room.

Alright everybody, huddle up. Conference time.

Emillion walks into Chris’s cubicle, coffee in hand.

Long night?

My head feels terrible...Like one of those clacky ball things, ironically enough.

Newton’s Cradle.

What?

I’m pretty sure what you’re talking about is called a Newton’s Cradle. One of those clicky desk toys, right? They look good in a corner office.

Chris slowly gathers himself up to walk into the conference room. Others in the cubicles find their way to the conference room as well.

It’s called the worst hangover all year.

That bad?

That bad. Worse. Worstest.

Well you’d better shape up quick baby bird.

Emillion corrals Chris into the

CONFERENCE ROOM

Chris and Emillion take the last two available seats. The table is full of all types of people who work for the company.

Light shines through a crack in the window blinds right in Chris’s face. Frank pulls up charts and data on a screen at the front of the room.

Team, I hate to be a bad news bear, but things are looking pretty thin right now. The stats aren’t doing us any favors.

A general wave of worry washes over the seated. Frank belches.

Excuse me. I’m not gonna cut staff or hours, so don’t be too worried just yet. I want us to think of this as a recommitment to our efforts. We can pull out of this slump before the quarter is over. I need you guys to be pressing more clients. Pressing harder on potential clients that look like they’re going to be having a rapid turnover rate. Really making the plays.

Chris leans over to Emillion.

(whispering)

What?

(whispering)

People that are very ill.

(whispering)

Oh.

Alright now. Everyone, I want to hear how your two man teams are doing?

Frank points to a pair of greying older gentlemen.

Davies, McCray, how are the old vets?

Things are looking pretty good on our side with a steady supply of clients coming in and out of the western hospital. I can ratchet it up a little if we need though Frank. Lean on some folks that might be on the fence.

That sounds great guys. Keep up the good work. Now, how about some news from our rookie? Chris, do you have anything to put up for your first week?

Well team--

Chris stands up and knocks over Gatorade all over the table and notebooks.

-- Geez Chris. Come on.

Chris tries to wipe the Gatorade off the table, just spreading it around more.

Shit.

I got the towels.

Davies walks out in a hurry.

Mister Easton, Guys, I’m very sorry. Uhh.

Chris picks papers off the table and tries to dry them with his shirt.

It’s alright son, it’s your first week, you’re allowed to be nervous. Just try not to wet the bed like this again.

Chuckles in the room. Davies comes back with paper towels and helps mop up the mess.

As everyone helps clean up, Chris speaks. His Gatorade soaked shirt and pants dripping.

I’m sorry Mister Easton... Frank...I haven’t been able to close a deal yet. I know you’re counting on me to get things done, so I’ll try harder. I know I need to close.

It’s alright Chris, don’t be so hard on yourself about it. Just let us know when you get your first deal. We’re all waiting and ready. Alright everyone, this is the last meeting before the weekend, so let’s keep it going.

Chris shambles in and throws his keys in a bowl beside the door. He walks around the small room and strips off his clothes until he’s just in his underwear.

What a terrible Day. Ugh.

He plops down on his bed and turns on the small TV that lives in his kitchen. In through the open door walks KAYLA (early 20s, long black hair, heavy makeup).

Still a mess from a week ago. I should have guessed.

Chris sits up with a jump.

Kayla? What are you doing here?

I’m getting the rest of my things.

Look, this isn’t the best day for that. Can you come back some other time?

Nonsense, Today is just as good as any other day. Why? You just don’t want to deal with me again? What? Am I some kind of burden on you now?

Yes. I mean. No. Yes, it’s a bad day. No, you’re not a burden. But it’s not like it’s a regular thing like you’re making it out to be. Today is especially bad for me.

It’s regular enough for me.

Ugh.

Chris slumps back on the bed. Kayla walks further into his apartment and throws around his things. She stuff bras, clothes, etc into a duffel bag as she goes.

Not like I give a shit what you think about me right now anyway. I don’t give a shit.

Please, Kayla, I really don’t want this happening right now. Look, I’m really hungover.

She stops and scowls at him.

A little bit.

Who was it?

Who was what?

You smell like beer and sex.

Ugh. We didn’t have sex.

AHA! So who is this bitch?

Please don’t be like this today Kayla, okay? I need this day to stop going wrong. I’m in no shape to have this argument again. I hate arguing.

Oh my God! You cheated on me! I just know it! Cheater!

Jesus, Don’t call me a cheater. We’re on a break! I didn’t cheat! Being on a break means that you can do whatever you want. It’s not cheating if you both decide to be on a break from the relationship because you’re not in a relationship when you’re on a break. Its like being broken up with an option of getting back together.

What are you talking about? A break doesn’t mean that you can go and sleep with whoever you want! A break means that you take time to think about your current relationship and what you want out of it! You figure out just what the fuck you want and you don’t go out and stick your dick into some fucking dumb ass bitch! You arrogant douchebag!

Jesus fucking Christ.

Kayla throws her bag at him.

Out! Get out!

I live here!

Get out! Get the hell out!

She throws a pair of shoes at him and screams.

Alright, alright! Jesus.

He grabs his outfit back up off the floor and retreats out the door, half dressed. Kayla fumes around the apartment and throws stuff onto the bed.

Chris sulks down the hallway and puts on clothes as he goes. Kayla echoes through the hall.

Chris sits at the bar with Jacob.

Isn’t it a bit early for drinking?

No.

I’m glad we agree then.

They cheers and swill.

So to what do I owe the midday libations?

Kayla kicked me out.

Jacob takes a big gulp of his beer and sets it on the bar. He takes off his glasses and feels his face.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore Jake.

It’s alright to feel that way man. Nobody really does. We’re all just making it up.

I know. But I really don’t know what I’m doing. I just feel like a ship adrift or something.

That’s not bad. You should write that down or something.

Shut the fuck up.

No. Fuck you.

Fuck you man. It’s like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore...At all. At least when we were in school I knew something. Complete this writing assignment. Read this book and write something about it. Do this shitty test. Jump through this fucking hoop, that fucking hoop. Now there’s nothing. No more fucking hoops and no more goal lines.

There’s still goals. You just haven’t set them yet. You could still write.

Yea, but I need to pay the bills. Not everyone got a proposal accepted already.

Hey man. This isn’t about me and my shitty vampire book deal. Alright?

I didn’t mean anything by it.

I get where you’re coming from though.

It’s like the whole structure of my life up to this point was just to get me here. Twelve years of public education and then four years of college. A constant barrage of tests and questions. Essays and shit. It’s all just to get me to where? Hmm? Out of that very same schooling system? To where? Huh? Nowhere, that’s where. There’s tons of us out here in the economy now and nothing to do with all this stupid knowledge of inane bullshit we’ve been spoon fed except regurgitate it.

Chris finishes his beer and puts it down on the bar a little harder than he should.

Chill the fuck out man.

Sorry.

I hear you. But what’s your plan?

Huh?

It’s not enough to be pissed about something. You have to do something about it. Otherwise you just burn up for no reason.

...No idea.

Chris signals another beer from the bartender.

Can I come stay at your place tonight?

Sorry man. I have a party to go to tonight.

Shit. Where the hell am I going to stay tonight?

You can’t just go play nice with Kayla?

You didn’t see her.

Well. You have to have some other friends... Right?

... Yea.

A large wooden room with marks of rogue paint on the floor. A large cedar picture frame in one corner. Various other artworks in various stages lie around the room.

Sarah stares unblinking at the giant wooden picture frame, transfixed.

A knock on the door to Sarah’s apartment. She walks out of the study and into the

MAIN ROOM

She looks through the peep hole, straightens out her blue overalls and opens the door.

Well, if it isn’t the coffee-hating good-for-nothing that tackled me in the Egypt exhibit last night...Oh. And what do we have going on here?

She motions to the bag he carries with him.

Sorry Ma’a--

Sarah’s eyes widen and she makes a fighting pose.

Sorry. Sarah.

Sarah drops the stance.

That’s what I thought. Come in.

Thank you.

Would you like to help me out? I was about to start work on my latest masterpiece.

Uh...Sure. I’m sorry I didn’t call first. You see there’s a situation --

-- Honey, I don’t have much time or patience for pleasantries. So don’t worry about wasting my time with them.

Oh. Okay then. Sure. My ex girlfriend came over and started throwing a fit at me--

--Don’t care.

She turns and moves into the kitchen. Chris follows her with his story.

On the counter is a bunch of fresh new groceries, ready to be put away from their bags.

Can you cook?

I thought you said you were working on your latest masterpiece.

Yes. I’m calling it ‘dinner’

(slightly slurred)

So... Am I supposed to cook?

You’ve been drinking. Did you drive here?

A little.

Yep. You’re definitely cooking now. And I’m catching up to you.

Okay then.

Ah! I’m glad you came over then! This should be great. I’ll help!

Sarah takes out the bottle of wine from the bag and starts to prepare two glasses for them.

Well...Uh...What do you want?

You cook? In that case, whatever you want to make. I’ve never been much good at this sort of thing.

Of course I cook. I would could have shown you last time I was over, but the only thing here was the whiskey.

Yea, I was quite ashamed at how barren my kitchen looked the other day so I’m glad you’re here to see the restoration of its former...effulgence.

Nice word.

Thanks, I’ve been known to sling a phrase. You know, before all this cancer stuff I was a normal... weird...housewife, or at least as close to it as I would get. You remember Tom from last night?

The guy who was gunning for me? Your “ex art partner”?

Chris finger quotes.

So...It was obvious he was gunning for you?

He was eyeballing me from across the room as soon as we walked in together. It’s like a heat ray from some guys. You can feel it baking into your flesh.

Yea, Tom and I were together off and on for four years. We played house really well until I got diagnosed. After that he dumped me like a cancer laden sack of potatoes. If it wasn’t about him then it was dead weight.

Shit. That’s terrible.

Chris pulls things out of the paper bags and inspects them. Sarah hands him a glass of red wine. They drink.

I should have seen it coming. He was a narcissist. He would sit at home and get high while I was out slinging lattes. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I guess was just enchanted with him.

Lattes?

Oh yes! I haven’t always been the darling child of the art scene. I’ve been a barista for a couple of years now. Making art doesn’t pay the fucking bills, but it keeps me going.

And he didn’t care about you in the least?

If you asked me then, I would have told you one hundred percent that he was in love with me. But now... Now, I don’t think so. Or, he cared about me as much as he got me to validate his bullshit.

So, Why stay with him for so long?

I’ve asked myself the same question for a while.

Sarah thoughtfully waggles the wine glass, now half full.

Everything is out of the grocery bags now. Chris puts things away in cabinets and Sarah helps by occasionally pointing at which cabinet to use.

Why are you telling me all this?

Well... For starters, you’re in my place...And...I don’t know. I feel connected to you. Cosmically or something. Like I’m supposed to be doing this. And plus, you left your bullshit insurance scam papers here last night.

I don’t believe in that. Divine providence. Cosmic Coincidence. Whatever you call it. It’s all bullshit if you ask me.

Well I didn’t.

Well I didn’t ask you about all your exes. Did I?

Aren’t we testy?

Sorry... I had a rough day.

Chris pauses and takes a sip of his wine.

I know what those are like. I’ve had a few myself. Things are gonna get better.

How can you still believe that?

Hope.

She leans in and kisses him slowly. His eyes light up.

So...I’m having a bad breakup.

Well I’m dying so...

Way to steal my thunder.

...Wait. I thought you said she was your ex?

She is. We’re on break.

You’re broken up? Or on a break? They’re totally different. Did you define the rules of the break before you went your separate ways?

There are rules for a break?

So that means no. Oh boy.

I think so. Yes?

That’s a yes then.

I think she gets the idea now.

Sounds grimy. Get your shit in order man.

Chris is about to put up the bread.

Hang on to that. I’m feeling a grilled cheese. You can make one of those, can’t you?

Yea, they’re simple enough.

Chris puts the bread back on the counter and turns around. Sarah has gravitated towards him.

So... Tough day. Huh?

They draw closer.

It was tough.

Sorry to hear that.

She leans in and kisses him. He’s taken aback and grabs the counter behind himself to try and get steady.

She pulls off him and retreats to her wine glass again.

Can... Can I have another?

Sarah puts her glass down and they kiss slowly, then more, then with passion.

Sarah and Chris, naked, sweaty, lie under the bedsheets. The papers for the insurance transfer sit on her bedside table.

She rolls over and watches him sleep.

(whispering)

What are you doing Sarah? What is going on?

She rolls onto her back and feels her body with her hands. Slowly and patiently. She breaks into silent tears.

(whispering)

Are we seriously dying?

Sarah feels her head with her hands. She giggles a little bit through the tears.

(whispering)

And what have you done with your hair?

She rolls out of bed and walks, naked, through her house to the

STUDY

The cedar picture frame hangs on the wall. It casts a large shadow from the moonlight through the open window. Sarah walks over to it and looks intensely at its grain, arms crossed.

She leans into the frame and presses her hands against it, staring at it.

(whispering)

We’ll find something for you frame. It’s gonna happen for us.

It’s morning in the bedroom. Chris wakes up and rolls over to see an empty spot in the bedroom where Sarah should be.

He ambles over to the bathroom and pees.

A beautiful green park with running trails encircles a lake in the foggy mist of morning.

Sarah onto the street from her apartment complex and faces the park. She double-loops her shoe laces and turns on her music in her headphones.

Sarah slowly jogs in the park, headphones on. As time passes she runs increasingly faster, faster, faster, until she’s running as fast as she humanly can.

She frantically rounds the corner, panting, trips, falls on the concrete pathway and skins herself. She cries out in pain.

She shambles to her feet and blasts off again, as if something is chasing her.

She runs through bushes, clambers around trees. Getting scraped and cut. Hyperventilating.

She veers right and runs on a dock on the lake, sprinting to the end of the dock.

She takes one leap up, onto a bench and over the railing into the frigid lake.

UNDER THE WATER

Sarah curls up into a ball, hugs herself as tight as she can. She bobs to the surface, struggling to keep her face below the water.

She screams, letting out giant bubbles of air.

ON THE SURFACE

Sarah floats in the water, bubbles of air surfacing in the calm morning.

A moment passes and no more bubbles appear. A mist hangs in the air and the dock is empty of people. The morning air languishes.

A loud gasp for air as Sarah suddenly picks her head up above the level of the pond. She cries out in anguish.

AAAAAAAAAaahh!

She breathes in a beleaguered breath and lets out a bellow of pure pain.

AAAAAUUUUUAAAAAAHHHHHH!

She breathes.

Chris cooks eggs in his pajamas as Sarah creeps in the door.

Oh hey Sarah? Where you been? How do you like your eggs?... Sarah?

She makes a beeline for the bathroom. He peeks his head out of the kitchen to see a waterlogged, crying, bleeding Sarah.

Jesus Sarah. What happened?

He follows her into the

HALLWAY

Which connects the bedroom to the main room. The bathroom is in this hallway.

Sarah goes into the bathroom and locks it.

I’m fine, just went on a big run and need a shower.

You were bleeding and soaked. Let me in.

Chris stares down the door for a moment. It clicks as Sarah unlocks, and then slowly opens it.

She shivers at him with tears in her eyes.

Chris puts his arms around her and hugs her sopping wet body. He rubs her back.

Hey... Everything’s alright.

Things are certainly not alright.

...Okay...Things aren’t alright.

No they aren’t.

Is this the crash you were talking about?

Yes.

Sarah weakly croaks out a laugh at this.

Okay... let’s fix you up then.

Chris grabs a towel off the rack and drys her off. He picks leaves and twigs off her as he goes. He leans in and kisses her on the forehead.

She peels off her wet shirt and pants. He wraps the towel around her and kisses her. She kisses him back and wraps her arms around him. They kiss hard and with ferocity.

Hands search bodies. She pulls his shirt off and she jumps on him, kissing him and wrapping her legs around him.

The eggs burn on the stove and smoke fills the room. The smoke alarm goes off.

Sarah and Chris stand around the kitchen and chew on some toast. Sarah is wrapped up in a towel. Chris is in his underwear.

A pan of burned eggs lie in the sink, water rinses over it. They stare at each other and graze on toast. The water runs.

So...Toast is pretty good.

Yea.

So. Wanna talk about that?

Sure.

Are you going to be okay?

No... No I’m not.

I mean... Is there some way to be okay with it?

It’s not like I get a choice.

Yea...

Chris reaches over and turns the water off in the sink.

...If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go.

Well... It’s not like anyone else is getting out alive either... You’re just leaving the party a little earlier...

Sarah gnaws a little slower.

This is fucking lame ass party anyways.

Chris stops.

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I think you’re amazing and it sucks that we never knew each other before. If I could do this all over again. It would be nice to meet you earlier. So... Sorry..

Yea.

She puts down her toast and crosses her arms.

We could’ve been something. You know? This feels like it should be _something_.

Chris moves over to her and hugs her tight. She rests her head on his chest.

... I can hear your heartbeat.

How’s it doing?

Pretty good. Sounds... solid.

Sarah swallows.

Get dressed, we’re getting the fuck out of the apartment.

A small theme park with some carnival like rides and prize booths. Chris and Sarah work on a shooting gallery game.

This thing is impossible.

Let me school you then.

Sarah hands the booth attendant a couple of bucks and he sets the targets in the booth into motion. Sarah handily plinks down a couple ducks, a shooting star, and a beaver.

... and that’s how it’s done... Tex.

Chris is astounded.

Shit. You’re really good.

I’m basically a gangster.

They walk off to a swinging ship.

Oh hell yea. Let’s do this thing.

Chris balks.

Wait... I uhh... I’ll stay here.

Are you fucking kidding me?

...No?

Chris bashfully sits on a nearby bench.

You’re going to make me go on this ride by myself?

Yes?

No you aren’t, come on!

She grabs him and drags him with her.

What are you so afraid of?

I don’t like rides like this, they freak me out. You know?

What? Are you kidding me?

No. I’m very... Cautious... I don’t like fast rides, I don’t like heights, I don’t like flying.

What? Have you ever been anywhere cool?

Well, I’ve driven to--

--Anyplace you’ve had to fly to?

They’re in line for the ride, Chris starts to sweat.

...No...

Holy shit. You’re telling me that you’re so freaked out by the thought of something happening to you that you’re sitting in your apartment... what? Touching yourself all day?

No! What the fuck?

Just sitting around with your thumb up your ass all the time? Jesus man.

I get out! I... I like writing stuff...

What are you even writing about? Stuff you haven’t experienced? I bet your writing is lame as fuck. Mister never get out of the house.

They are being shuffled onto the ride. They buckle in.

You have to go experience stuff. What are you afraid of anyways?

Well... Dying.

Remind me to figure out which plane ride or roller coaster gave me brain cancer when we get off this thing.

The ride starts up.

What’s going on?

Fucking adventure... bitch!

Sarah let’s out a vicious yalp of pleasure.

Come on square boy! Live a little. You’re fucking strapped into this thing until it’s done.

She pries Chris’s hands off the lap bar and into the air.

Now fucking scream!

Ahhh!?

Ahhh!!!! Whooo!

Whoooooooooo!

They yell into the air, then to each other. They giggle.

Chris walks out into the evening with a bag of overnight clothes. He strolls back towards his car in the parking lot with a pep in his step.

He gets to his car, a bland compact, and puts the keys in the door.

Baby bird? Aren’t we chipper today?

Chris jumps as he sees Emillion out walking his beagle.

Emillion! Jesus you scared me.

Don’t be afraid of me buddy. It’s just your friendly neighborhood Emillion. You know me.

What are you doing here?

Walking the dog. I live here.

Oh. I had no idea.

Yea. My girlfriend and I are on the other side of the complex, but Cupcake here won’t poop unless we’re on the grassy side.

(to Dog)

Isn’t that right you little pooper?

...Cupcake?

The girlfriend named the dog. Anyways. What are you doing around here?

I was... uh...

Oh...You were working on the live wire... weren’t you?

You mean Sarah?

And now you’re on the first name basis? Nice dude! You’re gonna have this one in the bag in no time.

Yea... In the bag. That’s gonna happen soon. Anyways, I gotta get going. I’m late.

Late for what? What’s in the bag man?

Uh...Paperwork.

Nice dude! Did you close on her?

What?

You know...Close the deal? Did she sign the paperwork?

Not yet. I’m still working on it.

Chris opens his door and throws his bag in the car.

But soon. I’m pretty sure.

Great! I can’t wait to get to the paperwork.

He hops in his car.

See you monday! Keep flapping’ them wings.

Emillion mocks a bird chirp as Chris hops in the car and leaves.

Sarah watches Chris’s car leave through the open window. She’s naked and wrapped in her bedsheets. She slumps back onto her bed and sprawls in the sheets.

An MP3 Player sits on the shore of the pond. Waves lap up against the shore and the player.

A brown coffee shop. Nature sounds fill the air. Bins full of coffee products and different mugs line the walls of this typical coffee store.

Echo and Sarah, in matching uniform, work behind the counter of the shop.

So, You remember the guy I told you I went to the fundraiser with? I’m starting to really like him.

That’s great!

The only thing is I’m wondering if he’s trying to play me.

What?

I didn’t tell you about the way I met him. He’s in this company that buys people’s insurance and when they die, they collect the money you would have gotten.

That sounds totally illegal.

Right?

Is it?

Nope. Not as far as I know. They seemed legit.

Well... Hmm...

Chris is super square, handsome, you know... very naturally fun to fuck with. He’s really sweet under the veneer finish of some stuck up office robot. After we ransacked the museum we went to the pier.

Sounds nice. We should go back there soon.

Yea. He’s just so scared of life. He didn’t want to ride the flying ship because he was worried it would kill him.

You can’t be serious.

I know.

It’s guys like that that make me think we should all go back to being tiger fighting cave men.

But he’s got this soft side, this weird nurturing vibe. It’s nice.

I thought you said he was trying to play you.

Yea. I saw him talking with his insurance scam buddy after just leaving my place. The other day. I hope he isn’t trying to make me fall in love with him just for a couple bucks. But... Damn... It felt so real to me Echo. Has he been playing me?

Echo steams some milk.

Sounds like a manipulative a-hole to me.

(rapidly)

He does, but I had the worst breakdown this morning and I came home from my run soaked and crying and he was making breakfast and he wrapped me up in a towel like a big sad burrito and kissed me and it was so wonderful. It was so wonderful Echo. It’s like he loved me. You know?

I think you should seriously consider the idea that he’s just using you. I don’t want that again. You remember how sing song Tom ended up trying to bury you after you introduced him to all your friends. You thought he was so good to you too.

Echo makes a latte. Sarah wipes the counters off.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I know. And he turned out to be an asshole too. I sure know how to pick em’, right? But just... something about the way he touches me. I don’t know Echo. Maybe he’s trying to scam me, but I have to give him a chance. I’m supposed to.

Things are going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright. Remember?

The apartment has been further ransacked. Chris shuffles over to the bed and scrapes everything heaped on it onto the floor. He flops down into it, thrashed.

He looks over to see that his college degree has been knocked off the wall in Kayla’s fit. He lurches up and over to it, dusts it off and puts it squarely back on the wall.

INSERT - Chris’s English Degree. A prestigious looking degree from a college.

Chris walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

Chris gets out of the shower and walks into the main room in a towel. Kayla sits on his bed, and stares at him as he walks to his dresser.

Hey, We need to talk.

Okay...I don’t know exactly how to start --

-- I love you.

A silence hangs in the air and Kayla starts to tear up. She sniffs and wipes her eyes before the tears well too high.

Uh...I love you too?

Do you really Chris?

...Yes?

What does this relationship even mean to you anymore? Who are we to each other?

We’re two people who know each other. Who really know each other. You know everything about me. I know everything about you.

Is that enough for us though? Just that? I wish there was some way for me to know if this is even worth it anymore. It’s just so... difficult.

Yea.

But relationships are something that you have to work at. Right? That’s what my mother always told me. That it’s hard work to have a marriage. Lots of compromise. Lots of pain. A high tolerance for someone...

But we’re not married.

Not yet. I know. But we’re gonna be. It could still work out.

Chris takes out underwear from his dresser and puts them on underneath the towel.

About that. I’ve been thinking. I wanted to apologize for what I did. I broke the rules of the “we’re on a break”. Even though I didn’t know the rules, you know? I still hurt you, and I’m sorry. Okay?

It’s okay. I get it now.

Oh...Okay.

So... I ended up sleeping with someone last night.

Chris stops in his tracks.

I didn’t expect that.

I wanted to get back at you so bad for what you did to me. I was angry. So I did it.

Kayla looks up at Chris tearful, she wipes them away just in time.

Can we just go back to March? Can we just forget all this ever happened?

I... Yes?... I don’t know Kayla.

I miss you. I miss us. It was so nice. I knew what was going on.

She stands and stalks over to Chris.

I need some more time Kayla. I’m still sorting myself out. Especially after this.

Can we talk about normal stuff? How’s the job going?

Kayla corners half dressed Chris against his dresser. She puts her hands on his chest and she kisses him.

She runs her hands across his chest and into his boxers. He winces. She recoils in horror.

I’m sorry? Did I do something wrong?

I’m... I just need some time to think. I’m sorry.

Oh. Okay. I’m going home. Call me. Please.

Kayla sulks out the door and into the hallway. She leaves the door open as she goes.

Chris puts his head in his hands and slides down the wall and onto the floor.

Chris knocks on the door, but it swings right open. He peeks his head inside.

Sarah? Hello?

He tentatively walks inside.

Umm, Sarah? Where are you?

He sees Sarah laying on the floor, covered in red paint, eyes closed.

Uh... Hey Chris.

He rolls up his sleeves and kneels down on the floor next to her.

Are you okay?

I’m a red paint zombie now. Shh....

Are you serious?

Sarah opens her eyes and lets out a big howl of a laugh.

Right. No such thing... Are you hurt?

I’m fine. You seem wound up.

Yea, What do you need help with?

No. It would be nice for you to go use that camera over there for a second. I’ve been doing all these shots today on a timer, and getting up and getting reset is making me tired.

Chris notices a nice camera set up across the room. He points it at Sarah.

Oh! Sure.

He walks over and takes a couple of photos with the camera on the tripod. Sarah poses in differing ways. The red paint drips off her and onto the floor.

Just go a little crazy with it now.

Like?

Sarah sighs and motions to him.

Take the camera off the tripod and take a couple hand held. Just do whatever feels natural with the camera.

He takes a few, moves closer to Sarah, she mugs for the camera.

Sarah laughs and pulls him onto the floor. Getting red paint all over the camera and Chris’s hands in the process.

Chris laughs. Sarah pulls him closer to her and kisses him lightly. She pulls back and smiles.

You are such a crazy woman.

She throws him off her and pins him onto the floor. Getting wet paint all over him.

Hey. Stop calling me Crazy. Okay? I’m human. I cry. I laugh. I get good and mad because I’m not a robot. I feel things, you know? I’m not a paper bag of a person.

Geez! Alright!

Kiss me already.

They make out and the red paint gets all over Chris. Sarah pulls away from him and looks surprised.

Ah! I have an idea. Come with me.

She scrambles to her feet and waves for him to join her in the

STUDY

Cans of red paint are open where Sarah has covered herself.

I didn’t know what to do with this stuff, but I just had a great idea. Take off your clothes.

Oh...Uh...Isn’t it going to get all up in our...

What? Spit it out already.

Parts?

Oh! No. I didn’t mean it like that. Hah.

Chris starts to take off his clothes. Sarah finds a white sheet waiting to be used as a drop cloth.

Chris stands naked, bashful, while Sarah is unaffected.

Okay. Now, close your eyes.

She lays aside the sheet and covers both herself and Chris entirely with the red paint, creating quite a mess.

Okay...This is a new sensation.

You get used to it. Alright now. We only get one shot at this. You remember yesterday morning? When you hugged me in the kitchen? I want to do that with you.

She takes the white sheet and covers her front with it.

Ready?

Yes.

I can’t see. So... Come get me.

Chris hugs Sarah, which makes an imprint in red paint on the sheet.

Chrism at his cubicle, picks red paint out of his hair. Emillion walks in with a coffee.

Morning. Any word on the live wire?

Sarah?

If that’s her name, yea?

Nothing yet. I’m working on it.

Alright, We can check in on her later. We just got the paperwork in from Father Perry and it’s looking good. The money goes out the door today. Actually, wanna help me finish it all up?

Right now?

Right now.

Chris walks with Emillion to the

CONFERENCE ROOM

Frank sits with Father Perry at the large wooden conference table. Father Perry’s lawyer NINA DEBARRY, an older woman with a short, professional, haircut. Chris and Emillion walk into the room and have a seat at the table.

Everything looks in order to me Father. Now, are you sure you want to do this?

Yes. I’ve given it much thought and prayer. There’s nothing else for me to do here in the world, and the only thing that I want to do still is see the vatican.

Alright then. I’m glad that we could help equip you at this difficult portion of your life.

Frank slides the paperwork and a black pen across the table in front of Father Perry.

You say that like there’s going to be another ‘portion’.

Frank gestures to Emillion.

Emillion here will take you over to accounts and make sure everything is settled.

Father Perry’s hand shakes as he signs his name onto the documents. He sighs and puts the pen down.

I’m sorry. Could I have some water or something?

Frank gestures to an enraptured Chris.

I...I’ll grab you a bottled water.

Chris walks off and into the

BREAK ROOM

A couple guys stand around the kitchen and chat.

Bears beat the Raiders last night.

Chris opens the fridge and grabs a couple bottles of water.

I thought they were trying to blow games to get a better draft pick?

It looks like that plan is out the window now.

Jesus, This football season is going to kill me.

Chris walks back into the main work room and into the

CONFERENCE ROOM

Miss Debarry has her hand on Father Perry’s back, she rubs it to comfort him.

Okay, Here’s one. Two drums and a cymbal jump off a cliff.

Chris sits the drinks down on the table.

Ba-Dum-Tiss!

Frank looks at Father Perry with expectation.

They hit the cliff on the way down? Get It?... I guess it’s not very funny.

It’s alright.

Frank chuckles awkwardly.

Father perry takes one of the waters off the table and sips it.

Thank you young man.

No problem Father.

Oh. You’re a man of faith then?

No, I’m afraid not so much, but I understand it. I get the idea behind it.

For me, It’s such a comfort to know that heaven awaits me when my time here is done. Still, for some reason, I’m afraid, but I don’t know why...Maybe it’s because this is all I’ve ever known. This form and this city. I’ll be sad when it’s all gone for me.

Father Perry puts down his water and signs his name on the dotted line with scrawled strokes.

The paper is passed around and signed by Frank and Miss Debarry before being handed to Emillion.

Right this way Father.

I guess it’s time to go...I’m excited to see the vatican... I’ve never been before.

Father Perry follows Emillion out of the room. Chris seems frozen into his chair as the lawyer straightens out her documents. Frank stands.

Thank you for coming in today Miss DeBarry .

It’s no trouble. Father Perry has always been good to me and my family, and it’s the least I can do for him right now.

Well, thank you all the same.

Frank and Miss Debarry shake hands.

I’m glad to see you aren’t some sort of con artist like I had originally feared.

Frank lets out a guffaw and shakes her hand vigorously.

I’m not offended in the least. I get that a lot from people.

Emillion pops his head back in the room.

Hey Chris, you coming?

Oh, Okay.

Chris gets up and follows Emillion out the door and into the

MAIN ROOM

Emillion walks with Chris in tow down the hallway to a dingy off-white colored door that says “Accounts”. Father Perry stands next to it.

Emillion opens the door and everyone steps into a small office. Sitting behind the desk is YAN, (late 40’s, asian, woman).

Hello there. File number?

Can I borrow that for a second Father?

Emillion gestures to the piece of paper that Father Perry carries, his walking paperwork for the deal.

Certainly son.

Emillion takes the papers and finds the number for Yan.

6071076.

Let me see that.

Emillion hands the paper to Yan. She looks it over. She writes something on it.

I dated it for you.

Uh...Okay.

Please stand up and hold this.

Father Perry stands up and Yan hands him back his paperwork. She positions him so he holds it right under his face, like a mugshot.

Thank you.

Yan takes a polaroid camera out from her desk and snaps a picture of Father Perry before he’s ready.

The camera spits the photo out and she waves it around to get it dry. Father Perry winces.

Almost all done.

She attaches the paper to the picture with a stapler’s loud thunk and files it into a folder on her desk. She takes a large checkbook out and fills in all the important details.

Five thousand dollars for Samuel Perry. Nice choice.

She pulls the finished check out of the book and hands it to him with disinterest.

Nice to do business with you.

...Thanks...

Father Perry pulls himself up to his feet up and sambles out of the room, into the hallway. He holds the check with pale, stiff hands. A crazed, small giggle escapes him.

... So that’s it then, huh?

Emillion lords over Yan’s desk back in the accounts room.

I’ll let you know when your commission comes in.

Thanks! Looks like Emillion is up on the board again.

Emillion and Chris walk out to the

CUBICLES

Chris takes Father Perry back to the Conference room.

Hey.. Are you okay?

I.. I’m... Yes.

Come on, let’s go get some lunch.

Miss DeBarry takes him by the hand and leads him out of the Office.

Chris walks back to Emillion, right next to the office kitchen. A large whiteboard stands with a table of people’s names and dollar amounts and dates.

Emillion puts his name at the bottom of the list with pertinent information.

So... Drinks on you! Right? How much was your commission?

Oh. I don’t have it yet, but it’s coming.

...I figured you’d get your cut today...

Oh! No Man. It doesn’t work like that here.

Is it in a month or something? The commission was one of the reasons I took the job here...

Well... Uh... I’ll be getting that commission when Father Perry isn’t around anymore. If you catch my drift.

Chris is rather taken aback at this.

Still...Five hundred dollars for Emillion. Not a bad day’s work.

INSERT: The whiteboard with information. Names of at least thirty people, some crossed off, all with dates of the same year.

Shortest turnaround was seventeen hours and we’ve only been upside down on two in the history of the company. Those are good numbers.

Chris sits at the bar and sips on a beer. His computer lies on the bar in front of him. It’s open to a blank document, the cursor taunts him.

Chris puts his beer down and taps on the keyboard. Words appear, then he deletes them with several angry strokes of the backspace key.

LATER

The beer is gone and the page is still blank. Chris sighs and puts the laptop away. He puts a few dollars on the bar and packs it up.

Sarah lies in her bed with the covers pulled up around her head.

A knock at the door. Sarah gets up and answers it in her pajamas. She looks through the peephole, sighs, and opens the door. Tom comes in without being invited.

Sarah!

I’m not up for this right now Tom. I’m starting to get a headache.

I won’t be much of a bother. I promise.

Tom sits down on Sarah’s couch.

Alright, What’s up?

Just stopping by to see how you’re doing...

Don’t bullshit me.

Tom clasps his hands and leans forward on the couch.

I just wanted to come over and make sure you were doing okay. I’m not allowed to care about you anymore?

Well, You didn’t seem to care when you found out that I had cancer.

I was scared. I’ve been so very childish Sarah. I know that now. Mea Cupla and all.

Well. It’s too far gone Tom. You should go now.

Come on Sarah, give me a few minutes please.

Alright then. Would you like some coffee?

Sure. Two and Two. You know how I like it.

Sarah walks out of the main room and into the

KITCHEN

Sarah slams the cupboards around and makes the preparations for some coffee. She pulls out two coffee cups from the cupboard. One has an “S” on it and the other has a “T” on it.

She waits for the coffee to brew and holds the mugs in her hand, dangling them by her side. She paces around the kitchen.

The coffee is done and she preps it with quiet contempt. She walks back into the

MAIN ROOM

Tom flips through channels on the TV, sprawled out on her couch.

Thanks babe.

Don’t call me babe.

So how long have you known it was this bad for?

A couple months now. It’s been rough.

Shit. I’m sorry.

For what?

That it’s gotten this bad.

Tom, You left when I needed you most. I was gonna settle down for you. Start a family. I really compromised my lifestyle for you. You can’t just waltz in here and act like things are even remotely okay.

Look, I know. I was a bastard. I’m sorry. Okay? I’ve said it. I’m sorry.

Sarah sips her coffee and puts it down on the table.

So...Are you doing alright?

I’m doing alright. But you’re not listening to me. You don’t get it. You can’t be here. You don’t have any stakes in this game anymore so you can go fuck right off.

You don’t really mean that. I know it. You’re just a little upset with how I’ve been talking today. Right? Let me try saying it a different way--

--No. It’s not that Tom. I’m done with you. Okay? If you need me for something drastic or terrible... Like your car won’t start or something. I’ll pull through for you once or twice. Because of how long we’ve been through shit... But just... Jesus You can’t keep using me. I’m not some blow up doll--

Are you sure something couldn’t be done to help you forgive me? I’m changed. I swear.

Tom leans in to kiss Sarah. She freezes, horrified, and stares him down. He obliviously kisses her disgusted face.

Tom. I need you to go.

But?

Out.

Oh come on. You can’t be serious.

Get the fuck out.

Tom slouches over and gets up. He drags himself out of the apartment, stopping at the door.

This isn’t how I imagined this would go. I never meant to make you so mad at me. I thought things would just go well. Things would patch up. You know?

Out. Now.

Sarah? Call me if you change your mind. Please?

Sarah crosses her arms and stares him down. He leaves and she locks the door behind him.

She walks back over to the

BEDROOM

and plops back in her bed. She covers herself with her sheets and grunts with disgust.

Her phone BEEPS with a message. Her arm snakes out from the blanket fortress she’s under and grabs the phone. She checks it

A message from Chris that says “Dinner?”

Chris puts his phone on the bar as Jacob comes back from the bathroom.

Look Chris, if you don’t want to be a two timing ass wipe, you need to stop seeing this Sarah.

She’s not like anybody else that I’ve ever dated. She’s smart, creative, witty, and she takes care of herself. I don’t have to baby her. Which is awesome.

You’re just running away from your real issue.

Yea? What?

We sat at this very bar the other night and you told me how much you hated your life.

So? What the fuck does that have to do with this?

That hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed? And plus, aren’t you going to deal with the Kayla thing anytime soon?

Well. It’s probably over for good between us.

Weren’t you two engaged for a while?

Still are... Technically. She told me last night that she slept with someone else.

Jacob’s eyes go wide and he puts his beer down on the bar.

Holy shit. Did she say who?

No. But it doesn’t really matter. I guess if we’re counting, I cheated on her first. Technically. But I should have had the guts to call the whole thing off first.

Chris?

We’re on a break. I can do whatever I want. It’s the same as being broken up. At least that’s what I thought. Man. How many mistakes have I been making?

Chris finishes his beer and puts some money on the bar.

Have you got any pages done?

No. Nothing. You?

Yea. Finished two stupid chapters last night.

Well great for you. Nerd. I have to jet anyways. I have a date with Sarah.

Chris gathers his things.

Chris. Hey. Man to man. You need to sort out this Kayla thing. She’s going crazy.

I know.

Chris skulks out of the bar.

Sarah sits next to Chris at the bar of the diner.

How was your day?

It was okay. I’m battling a headache.

Sorry to hear that. Anything else interesting happen?

Well. Tom came over and creeped on me. Hard.

...And?

Sarah stops eating.

What do you think happened?

I don’t know. You told him off? I hope you told him off.

Of course I did... Did you expect me not to?

I don’t know what I expected.

You expected me to say yes.

I don’t know what I expected. I... I’m sorry.

Ugh, God. It’s alright. Jesus. I have had this headache all day and it’s making me super cranky... I can’t believe he had the audacity to kiss me.

What?

Yea, but it’s not like I kissed him back.

Chris’s posture changes to defensive.

What? What’s the big deal?

I just didn’t expect it is all.

Well, It’s not like you and I are an item or anything. I haven’t pried into your love life. What’s going on with your ex? What’s her name?

Kayla. And I’m still on a break with her.

On a break still? Oh shit. You’re still together and you haven’t told her it’s over. I’m... I’m the other woman.

Technically, you might be right.

Well that’s technically fucking precious.

Hey. I had the talk with her. The... define the rules of the break talk. At least I tried to. She was so busy confessing her true and undying love for me. That she might have just totally missed it. A big long suffering speech that I just _loved_.

Well. You don’t seem to be too authentic yourself. I’m not sure why I’m even here tonight. I saw you chatting up your partner in crime out in the parking lot the other day.

That’s not what you think it was.

Oh. Really? I’m going to believe the con artist.

Con artist! He lives in your neighborhood. He was out walking his dog.

I’m sure that’s what he was doing.

It is. Look. I’m really into this. Into you. Us. This.

Chris reaches across the table to grab Sarah’s hands. She repels him.

No you look! You listen! I’m not some sort of pawn in this game goddamn it. I’m the fucking queen. I’m not going to be taken advantage of. I’m not some commodity or some _thing_ for you to have. I’m not going to be jerked around by the whims of some boy-man--

--Okay. Okay. I understand. I’m not--

-- You do not understand. You really do not. I’m sorry about your bullshit with your ex. It sounds rough. But i’m not going to be around anymore pretty soon. And not in the way that you have a friend that moves off to Pittsburg or something that you can still follow around on Facebook and then they pump out a few kids. I’m going to be ex post facto. I’m going to be dust. Fucking dead! Dead. Dead. Dead. Got it? Jesus my head hurts.

Alright!

Sarah looks far off and her eyes roll into the back of her head. She slumps in her chair. Chris freaks out.

Sarah! What’s going on? What’s wrong?

Chris gets up and moves over to her. The restaurant patrons gawk.

Come on Sarah, talk to me. What’s going on?

Sarah starts to convulse. Chris tries to lay her on the floor.

Sarah is laid up in a hospital bed. She’s hooked up to sorts of monitors and machines.

Chris sits next to her bed and holds her hand. A well dressed female DOCTOR enters the room.

All right now, how are you feeling Sarah?

Tired.

That’s normal after a seizure. Have you been taking your seizure medication?

I... I don’t have any seizure medication.

This your first seizure then?

Yea.

I see. We’re gonna have to put you on some Dilantin then. You’ve had a gran mal seizure. It’s pretty common with people with brain tumors. Do you feel like you’ve injured yourself anywhere? Any bruising you can feel?

I don’t think so. What’s going on?

Part of your condition is that you brain is firing in unpredictable ways. It’s not hard for a sort of ‘electrical storm’ to occur, which manifests itself as a seizure. There’s not much you can do about it if you have one, just ride it through.

(weakly)

See? I told you Chris. Frothing at the mouth.

The doctor looks at her a bit puzzled.

I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you again, and then we’ll get your papers and prescription.

The doctor leaves the room.

Chris. I’m sorry.

For what?

For putting you through all this bullshit.

Nonsense. What bullshit?

All this relationship drama. It’s exactly what we both need right now. I’m sorry. I get so caught up with following my gut sometimes that I don’t come up for air. I just... I’m just so in the trenches with things. It can be scary.

You’ve been pretty scary lately, yea. That’s for sure.

Through the door comes Echo.

Oh my god Sarah. Are you okay?

I’m fine Eck. Meet Chris.

So you’re the materialistic con artist? Did you do this to her?

--I’m sorry--

--Echo of course he didn’t--

--exactly why are you wasting your time on this guy?

Echo stamps her foot to command the room.

Sarah. If I’m not mistaken. This was the jerk who completely kiboshed your aura the other day and is scamming you out of your hard earned money. Remember how many lattes we’ve had to sling and all the clawing and scratching you’ve done? Well I do--

-- Echo! He’s not so bad. He’s not trying to scam me or anything.

Oh really? He wants to make you sign over your little life insurance policy so he can make money off your dead fucking corpse and so he’s been pulling bullshit little stunts to make you fall in love with him? he’s fucking nothing? He’s got nothing to offer you. He’s just some other milquetoast boilerplate man for you to paint your personality on and use. Right? Don’t you think I don’t know how this goes Sarah! I’ve seen you do this time in and time out except this one might just be out to screw you over entirely.

I should go.

Chris gets up and slinks toward the door. Echo crosses her arms and lets him by.

Look. Im... I’m really sorry about this whole thing. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Echo’s right about some stuff. I’m sorry to have inserted myself into your life and completely fucked it up. I should have known better and I’ve just made a bad situation worse. So... I’m sorry. I have no right to be here. I hope that somehow things work out for you Sarah. Goodbye.

Chris...Wait.

For what?

I don’t know. But don’t go.

I’m not supposed to be here. I’m just fucking things up worse.

Chris walks out the door.

Good. I’m glad that he’s gone.

No. I... Echo... He was supposed to be here.

Echo moves over and holds Sarah’s hand. Sarah tears up.

Chris passes the Doctor in the hallway.

MONTAGE

Kayla stomps and screams at Chris. She kisses him. The room is still a big mess.

Frank shows numbers up on the screen. Things are still bad. Chris’s phone rings and he silences it.

A present shows up in Chris’s cubicle. Emillion watches him unwrap it. He giggles with delight as he sees it undone. Chris has unwrapped a Newton’s Cradle desk toy.

Chris points questioningly at Emillion. Emillion shakes his head ‘not me’.

Chris looks at the giant Newton’s Cradle in the museum. It’s been roped off. He wanders over to the Egypt exhibit and notices that the lid on the sarcophagus is still shut.

Sarah goes for a run around the park. She jogs and looks at her phone obsessively. She stops and calls someone.

END MONTAGE

Echo and Sarah sit on the couch and eat cookies together.

You’re looking blue today Sarah. Blue is good.

I’ve got a lot on my mind. I have to do something...Something big. One last showing for these pieces I’ve been making recently.

I don’t think that you can top the Modern Art Exhibition you did. It was perfect.

Well, I have something I want to show you.

Sarah gets up and ushers Echo into her

STUDIO ROOM.

There are multiple picture pieces of Chris and Sarah that have been pasted onto mannequins to create a humanoid appearance.

The sheet hangs up, dividing the room, paint impressions of the embrace mark it.

The largest and most ornate cedar picture frame hangs, empty still, in the corner.

Sarah, these are amazing. I love what you’ve done.

Thank you. You’re too kind. Chris took a lot of these, and there’s a feeling in the pieces that weren’t in my previous ones.

What changed then?

I... I don’t know...

Well, What’s next? Did the Modern Art place want to display these?

I don’t know. I was thinking about renting my own warehouse somewhere and doing a show. My own exhibition, for everything that I’ve done.

That kind of space is going to take a lot of money Sarah. Have you sold these yet?

Not yet. But I have a ton of interest. If I could just scrape together a couple bucks for the exhibit I know that I could get over that last hurdle.

You’re not thinking about...

Well, what do I have to lose? I need the money for the exhibition. It would be a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

Well.. I suppose now is the time.

Just that one last frame. I have no idea what to put in it. It’s got to be something really good.

Chris sits at his cubicle and types up an email. Emillion drops by his cube.

Hey there baby bird. Papa bird wants to have a word with you before we make our rounds today.

Oh. Uh.. okay then. Sounds good to me.

Cool. Save some energy for today though. Woo’s!

Woo’s.

Chris plods up from his desk and walks over to Frank’s Door. He knocks once on the open door.

Come on in. Close the door behind you.

Yes sir.

Sports memorabilia everywhere. Frank sits behind his desk with multiple plaques on the wall.

Chris comes in and sits.

Chris. I wanted to check in with you and see how the first month has gone.

Things are pretty good. I’m really getting along great with the rest of the team.

Great news then. It’s always good when everyone’s on the same playbook. I’m a little concerned with your lack of turnover though. I’d like you to get *something* on the books.

I’m sorry. I’ve really not been at my best...I guess. I’ve had my head elsewhere.

It’s alright son. Don’t worry about it. What’s going on?

Well...My fiance and I are going through a rough patch.

Ah, I remember when I graduated from college back in eighty two. I had no idea which way to go and my relationship I had was weighing on me like a ton of bricks.

The thing is. I’m not sure it’s her. She’s pretty great. I think it’s me. I’ve always relied on her and she’s always been there for me. But *I* I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m so used to going with the flow that I’m not sure where I’m going anymore...I really appreciate this job Mister Easton. I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I don’t want you to get that impression.

Call me Frank, please. I never thought you were. Don’t worry about that. Look son. I’ve never been great with relationships, but I’ve learned something from watching so many dying people come in and out of this building. They’re all these sad shells because they haven’t done everything they thought they had time to do. Truth is there’s never enough time. You’ve got to be yourself. At whatever hazard. Whatever cost. You gotta be authentic. It’s the only thing anyone really has. The knowledge that you were the most _you_ version of _you_ that you could be.

Thanks... I don’t know what to say.

No problem. Just do the right thing...and get me someone so I can put your name on the board and justify you being around here. Eh? Otherwise I’m gonna have to fire you.

Sure. Thank you...

Chris is pensive, he stands up and shakes Frank’s hand, then leaves.

Emillion and Chris ride around the neighborhoods. Chris is visibly in thought.

Why so glum?

Just having a rough couple of days is all. A lot on my mind.

Well, no use focusing on it right now.

Yea... It’s just that my gut is telling me I’ve been really really wrong about how I’ve been living. Like I’ve been living in someone else’s dream for too long.

Uh... Okay. That’s interesting.

Emillion pulls up to Sarah’s apartment complex.

Wait. What are we doing here?

I need to go let Cupcake out. One of the perks of the job. Why don’t you go and have another go around with the live wire? Hmm? Close the deal this time, pitch her again. Close the deal this time man.

Emillion hands Chris paperwork.

Uhm...Okay.

Emillion parks the car and goes to his apartment. Chris gets out slowly and meanders to Sarah’s doorstep.

He stares at the door with trepidation. She opens the door without him even knocking.

Sarah stands in the doorway, bleary eyed, stoic.

I heard you coming up the stairs.

I...

What do you need Chris?

I’m supposed to come and pitch you the damn insurance thing. Emillion is walking his dog and told me to come--

-- So someone told you what to do and you’re here to do it.

I... Um...

Okay. Well, fuck it, let’s hear it.

Chris walks in through the door, head hung low. Sarah closes it behind him.

Well. I don’t know. Look. I’m sorry for this whole thing. I don’t know what I was thinking and I should go.

Quit running away from shit you fucking coward.

Excuse me?

You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward. You’re afraid as fucking hell to live the way you want to live and you have to fit into some sort of box and not rock the status quo. What are you afraid of anyway?

Look this isn’t about me. You’re going to be dead and I have to be prepared for that. I can’t get too attached. This wasn’t going to work out from the start.

Fuck your fears and rules. I’m alive right now and I.... I think I love you you piece of shit.

Look. I’m doing just fine because of my rules. I’m not about to let you dismantle me. This whole damn thing is just too rickety. From the start. I never should have let you get to me like this. It was too damn reckless. You’re too reckless.

Sarah pushes off him and walks back a few paces.

Yes. I’m reckless. But you’re a closed off cloistered nothing! The difference is that I’m choosing to regret things that I’ve _done_ rather than things that I _haven’t done_. It’s easier for me to fill in the blanks with “why did I”s rather than “should I have”s when I lie awake at night and I can’t sleep. In the end, people will have far more interesting stories to tell about “Crazy Sarah” than about “Chris Who”? Because my stories will start with “You won’t believe the time that Sarah did...” and end with “Crazy Sarah!” and your stories will start with “This guy I used to know talked about” and end with “Chris Who?” And that’s all we are in the span of things. Fodder for good stories.

Is that all you think of me as? A “Chris Who?”

You’re no Chris Who to me. Take a fucking chance on me. Or in the very least take a chance on yourself for once. Take the dangerous path. Nobody is going to make it out alive.

Chris has his back against the door.

I... I can’t...

Chris turns and barrels out of the door and into the parking lot. He runs right into Emillion.

Whoa! What’s wrong baby bird?

Nuh... Nothing. Let’s go. Okay?

Chris shambles to the car and gets inside. He looks pallid. Emillion gets into the car after him.

What the hell is up man?

I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry. Let’s just go.

(under his breath)

Hungover drunk.

Sarah lies on her bed and weeps. She tears at her clothes, screaming mad. She runs into her

STUDIO

And grabs the big cedar frame. She hoists it with all her might and throws it onto the floor. It cracks in half.

Fuck! Fuck! God damn it. Why the fuck did I ever do this to myself? Why did I ever want something so fucking stupid?

INSERT - The cracked cedar frame

Chris and Jacob sit at the bar, reading pages.

What about this section? Am I rushing through things?

Yea, it seems like you could be taking more time here.

It’s for horny teenagers, how much time can they need?

You’d be surprised.

Chris takes a gulp of ale.

Any pages from you today?

Chris shakes his head no.

I’ve been too busy breaking things off with Sarah... and I’m probably going to break it off with Kayla too.

Just all around implosion?

Yea.

Where are you going with all this?

I think... Somewhere? I don’t really know. I just need to get through this week.

Now _that’s_ a dangerous mentality.

Hey man. I’m finally starting to pull my head out of my ass, so show some support.

Alright. Sorry.

Emillion and Chris stand in front of a large wooden door and knock on it. A few moments pass.

Are you sure this is the place?

Yea, and this is when we were supposed to meet her. She was all ready to sign up.

Chris walks over to the window looks through the glass, inside, in an easy chair, an old women rests gently.

She’s in there sitting in her chair.

Emillion knocks again, but harder.

Nothing man... Do you think she’s?

Emillion tries the door knob and finds it unlocked, the two of them step

INSIDE

A well loved home with pictures of family hanging in frames. An old guitar is on one wall. Emillion walks over to her and feels for breath.

Excuse me?! Mrs. Brown? Hello--

Chris is in shock. He walks over to a large side table and picks up some of the picture frames on it. Mrs. Brown is there, smiling, happy with her grandchildren.

-- Chris? I said to call the police.

Oh. Sorry.

He carries the picture frame with him while he’s on the phone.

Hello? LAPD? Someone has died...

Emillion pulls the paperwork out from his briefcase and puts a pen into the hands of Mrs. Brown.

(to Emillion)

What are you doing?

Nothing. You concentrate on getting some help here.

Chris stares at Emillion. He clicks the phone down.

What the fuck man. Are you forging her signature?

She was going to sign anyway, that’s why we were here, to close this one.

I... I won’t fucking let you do this.

Emillion stares him down.

What the fuck did you say to me baby bird?

I said No. You leave her alone and let her fucking rest in peace and quit it with the baby bird shit. I am a twenty fucking five year old man. And the only one between us with any real morals apparently.

Emillion stands up and stares Chris down. A siren pulling up announces the police.

The apartment has been tidied a bit. Chris sits at his small kitchen table with a coffee, he’s stewing over it. A knock at the door.

Chris steels himself and answers. Kayla towers in the doorway.

We need to talk.

What’s going on?

Look, Kayla. I so appreciate what you’ve done for me. How you’ve helped me so much in life. But I... I can’t be with you any more. This isn’t what love is like and this isn’t what I want for my life.

What? Chris, I don’t understand.

Kayla, I can’t be in a romantic relationship with you anymore.

I thought we were going to be together forever.

I know. I did too for a while. But I’m discovering that I want more out of my life than what we had planned. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I’m doing this because I feel some kind of love for you, and I can’t be the person you want me to be.

You son of a bitch. This is about that cancer girl. Isn’t it?

What? How did you know--

--Jacob told me.

Kayla rips the ring off her finger and throws it at Chris. He barely catches it.

Maybe I should have been with him all this time instead of a sorry son of a bitch like you.

She storms out of the apartment.

Chris sits at the bar with a water sitting in front of him. Through the front door creeps Jacob. Chris spies him and stands up.

Jake.

Chris.

Jacob slides into the stool next to Chris, never taking his eyes off him.

So...

Yea. If i’m putting all this together correctly...

Jacob signals the bartender, turns to Chris and nods somberly.

And I’m thinking that you are.

Why didn’t you tell me.

Shame.

Okay. I get it.

Just the once. I had too much to drink and--

I’m good man. I don’t need to hear more.

Want a drink?

Maybe later. I need to take a break right now.

Oh...

Do you want to try and still be friends?

Yea. Is that still an option?

Yea. It’ll take some time though.

Chris sits at his desk and plays with the Newton’s Cradle. He looks defeated. Emillion walks up behind him.

Frank wants to see you in the conference room, now.

Could this day get any worse?

Chris lanks himself up from the seat and walks over to the

CONFERENCE ROOM

Emillion opens the door.

Everyone in the company is gathered there, with a cake and party hats. The cake says “Congrats!”.

SUPRISE!

Wha? What?

Oh come on, don’t play coy now Chris.

Chris and Emillion walk into the room. Davies starts to serve up the cake.

It’s not my birthday.

A general chuckle arises.

Good One.

Son, If we had to wait for your birthday for you to close a deal then you’d be fired for sure.

Another general chuckle. Cake is being passed around and eaten.

Just try not to knock this one all over the table. Right?

Chuckles around the table.

Baby bird learned to fly. It was about time too.

You closed your first deal yesterday. Don’t you remember?

What?! When Emillion and I arrived at Mr.s Browns house she was dead when we--

-- The paperwork for the live wire came in the front door today.

What?

Congratulations! Should be great for the whole company. Good work son.

Pretty good commission on it for you too. Right?

Yan shakes her head.

Good money for a new guy.

This... This can’t be right.

Chris backs out of the room, astonished.

What’s wrong son?

I...I’m not supposed to be here. I have to go.

What? Right now? We were just celebrating you first sign up? You can’t leave now.

I... I’m sorry. I quit. I can’t do this.

He turns and runs out of the building as the rest of the office shouts at him.

He blunders down the stairs and out into the

PARKING LOT

He fumbles his keys into his car and speeds off.

Chris knocks on her door with a clamorous barrage.

Sarah! Sarah! Open the door.

He keeps knocking. Nobody is there. From behind him walks Echo. He spots her.

Echo! Where is Sarah?

What does it matter to you? You got her insurance money, so now buzz off somewhere else. Fly, Fly away!

It’s not like that. I... I love her, but I’m afraid. I’m fucking terri--

Echo takes a hard look at him. She hauls off and slaps him hard.

Ouch! What the hell--

Echo grabs his face with both her hands and does her best to penetrate his mind with her eyes.

Oh... My God. You really do. You’re not bullshitting. Are you?

No! Why did you have to slap me to know that? I just said that I’m in love with her.

She’s at the warehouse on 5th.

Chris runs back to the

PARKING LOT

He frantically checks his pockets to find that he’s locked his keys in his car.

Shit.

Chris is running down the street as Echo pulls up next to him in a beat up station wagon.

Gonna run the whole way?

I didn’t think this through very well. I locked my keys in my car.

Shouldn’t we call triple A or something.

Nope! I have to go do this right now.

Alright, Hop in!

Okay.

Echo stops the car and Chris hops in.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

Chris pants loudly for breath.

So...You drive a station wagon?

It’s the best I can do right now. Quit judging. You’re still on the bad guy list. Bad Guy!

Sorry.

Chris busts into the gallery. Sarah hangs and positions her works.

Chris...What?

Let me talk... Please.

I don’t have anything else to say to you.

Echo strolls in, holding a paper bag full of supplies.

Then listen. Alright?

Echo, What are you doing helping him?

Don’t put me in the middle of this Sarah. I’m just looking out for your happiness. Okay.

Alright. But you get six words. That’s all the time I have for you anymore.

I’m not afraid anymore. Thank you.

Sarah kisses Chris.

The apartment looks nice and tidy. A knock on the door. Chris moves over to answer it. Kayla is at the door.

Come in.

Kayla, arms crossed, carries herself into the room.

I went ahead and put most of your things into a box for you.

Thank you...

I know you’re going to be angry at me for a long time probably. And... You might be right to be like that. I understand. But I want you to know that I’m not angry about you and Jake at all. I forgive you.

Chris... I...

It’s... The amount of times that you’ve stuck with me, helped me out, been my best friend. Those are the things that really counted. Those are the times that I want to keep. These last few months. The disintegration of our lives together. It’s been painful, yea. But I feel awake now. Thank you.

Thank you?

Chris moves over and hugs Kayla. She fights back tears.

Chris, Sarah, and Echo put the finishing touches on the gallery showing. Moving paintings around.

There’s a picture of Chris and Sarah kissing on the two mannequins, they are framed by the broken picture frame.

Big opening tomorrow.

Meh. What’s a gallery opening now that you’ve found *true love*.

Don’t make me throw up. Bleh.

Echo giggles. Sarah tosses a roll of tape at her.

I’m still not satisfied with what we’ve done with the cedar frame piece.

It’s a bit late now, don’t you think.

Still... I’m pretty proud of all this.

The gallery is filled with framed pictures of Sarah. Naked. Covered in paint.

In the lake.

The hanging sheet documenting their hug.

I just have one thing that I need to show you.

Chris fishes around in his jacket and shows Sarah some paperwork.

What’s this Chris?

It’s the same kind of transfer documents that you signed for your insurance. I bought it back from the company.

What? Chris? How?

It wasn’t right. I didn’t feel good about it. So I offered them double what he paid you and he accepted. Just sign here and it’s yours.

What? Where did you get this kind of money?

I emptied my savings account. And I sold a ring I didn’t need anymore. And I sold my car.

Your car?

Don’t freak out or anything. This is right thing to do.

Chris. You really didn’t have to.

But I did.

They kiss. Sarah takes the papers.

Turn around for a second?

What?

Just do it. I need something to write on.

Chris turns his back and Sarah presses up against him to sign the paperwork, which she does. When she’s done, she pockets the papers and turns Chris around. They kiss again.

Sarah and Chris are lie in bed together. Sarah lies on top of Chris stroking his hair and kissing him.

Chris. I wanted this moment so much.

Your show tomorrow is going to be amazing.

You mean today?

Chris looks over at the clock.

I mean today.

Oh Jesus. We need to go to sleep.

Chris wakes up and looks over at Sarah, who is sound asleep. He removes himself as quietly as he can and goes into

THE BATHROOM

He uses the bathroom and starts up the shower. He gets undressed and steps in.

Chris walks into Sarah’s room in a towel. He drops it and picks some clothes out of a duffel bag he’s got.

Alright, sleepy head. It’s time to go.

She doesn’t stir.

Come on now. It’s a big day.

He looks over at her as he puts on his underwear.

Sarah. Hey!

He walks over to her and shakes her. She doesn’t even stir.

He looks long at her, she’s still and peaceful, no longer present.

Chris stands up, unbelieving, movement fluid but slow. He takes her camera off the dresser and takes a picture of her.

INSERT - The display screen of the Camera

A still photograph of Sarah Thompson, dead.

A large picture of Sarah, asleep, hangs up in the broken cedar frame. The two mannequins of Chris and her in a kiss are off to one side.

The gallery is full of the local artists. Maria comes around to each piece and looks longingly at it. Tom is there too, with a new, naive art girl in tow.

Echo and Chris walk the gallery, holding onto each other tightly.

INSERT - The sleeping photo is inside the broken frame.

She’s gone.

Yes. She’s gone.

Maria walks over to the two of them.

This is so fantastic. I’m so sorry to hear the news though. She’d be so proud of this showing.

There’s a line around the block and into the distance to get into the gallery.

Chris comes into his apartment and takes off his suit. Sarah’s picture of herself in red paint on the floor is on his wall. He pulls out his computer and opens up a word processing program.

Chris types: “Dignity Trust. Figuring out how to be an authentic human”

He sprawls out on his bed and prepares for a long session of writing. He sets in motion the Newton’s Cradle now sitting on his desk.

There’s a knock on the door. Chris gets up to answer it.

At the door is Lawyer Nina DeBarry.

Excuse me sir, Are you Christopher Graves?

Yes. I am. Call me Chris.

Wait. You’re the guy from that company. The one who buys the life insurance.

That’s me.

Hmm. Well, I’m the executor of the will for Miss Sarah Jones. I understand that you will be inheriting some things from her.

I’m sorry, what?

She named you as the recipient of her life insurance and a good portion of her estate. Most everything besides her collection of... and I’m quoting the will here, “hippie shit”, those go to someone named--

Echo, right? Heh. Would you like some coffee?

No thank you.

My best friend just died, have some coffee with me.

She looks aback. Then comes in. She sets the paperwork she carries with her on the small table.

I suppose I could have a small cup.

How’s your day going today?

Uh... Just fine, thank you.

INSERT - Paperwork. Sarah’s handwriting. “To Christopher Graves: All my love... ”

FADE OUT