Editor
Bleu Gato
in memoriam
Sara
White is copyrighted by the author and is not to be used or modified without permission. All rights reserved.
Contact: bard@xena2.com
Blog: www.xena2.com/blog
FADE IN:
EXT. APARTMENT COMPLEX – OUTSIDE HALLWAY - EVENING
The screen door is alone, baring the contents of the small unit behind the airy barrier. Unremarkable insides expose themselves to the world, sprinkled liberally with lived-in clutter. This is a comfortable place, like a pair of favorite shoes. Or it was; once.
NARRATOR, heavily
NARRATOR (VOICE-OVER)
The fade – two little words, two little liars. It falsely implies the gradual disappearance from life; severance is more apt. There is no easing the amputation or escaping the pain. Nothing gradual about either; more, an incessant ache jabbing home the loss.
The NARRATOR hesitates before reaching out and announcing the bell.
A WOMAN slowly comes out of the depths of idle TV chatter and stands before the separation that is the perforated metal. The distance is not affected by the physical; this estrangement springs from a different source.
NARRATOR (VO)
The screen door stays shut and her mouth follows. Cultivated passiveness her shield, polished to perfection.
The WOMAN and NARRATOR stand and stare, neither ready to go first. For one, it is a choice.
NARRATOR, quietly
NARRATOR
Kiss me or tell me to leave.
The WOMAN does not answer.
NARRATOR, louder
NARRATOR
Kiss me or tell me to leave.
Words failing, the NARRATOR and the WOMAN face off, close yet so apart.
NARRATOR, sadly
NARRATOR (VO)
She knows; I don't. Or does she? Do I?
CUT TO:
EXT. APARTMENT COMPLEX – OUTSIDE HALLWAY - NIGHT
The standoff enters the night and its companion stars, weakly orbiting the suburban glow. The weird clash of wills continues.
NARRATOR, resigned
NARRATOR (VO)
As always, she wins.
True to the voiced inner thought, the NARRATOR steps back and then takes a seat on the concrete. The round goes to the WOMAN.
In response to the NARRATOR'S action, the WOMAN turns around and vanishes in her reunion with the TV. Hope centers on the entry door, left open.
CUT TO:
EXT. APARTMENT COMPLEX – OUTSIDE HALLWAY - NIGHT
The NARRATOR wakes to the blanket being gently placed around the shoulders.
NARRATOR
Kiss me or tell me to leave.
The WOMAN, again, refuses to choose.
NARRATOR (VO)
There is no answer and I realize there never will be. We could repeat this cycle until Nature ends, but hers will not. And strangely, comfortingly, that revelation is the answer I was seeking.
The NARRATOR stands abruptly and the WOMAN backs up in a hurry, then stops and waits eagerly.
NARRATOR (VO)
She looks expectantly, visibly welcoming the tidal wave of accusations and frustration that surely must be cresting by now. It is her way out.
The NARRATOR first removes and then folds the blanket carefully and deliberately, before handing it back.
NARRATOR (VO)
I dress the return with a sad smile and walk away.
To the surprise of the WOMAN, the NARRATOR does exactly that.
NARRATOR (VO)
She gasps behind me and draws breath as if to speak. I hasten my steps, nearly running and the dead air whooshes out behind me; the very last, airy kiss lightly brushes my shoulders and caresses my hair. It says goodbye.
Pause.
NARRATOR (VO)
Goodbye, I silently reply.
FADE OUT:
THE END