IN THE CAMPFIRE LIGHT

by

Samantha Michelle

Registration #1977926

samanthamichelle5@gmail.com
+1(917)657-2519
 "EVEN IF THE STUFF IS DARK, EVEN IF THERE'S TRAGEDY INVOLVED,
IT'S STILL EXCITING. THE TRUTH IS ALWAYS HOPEFUL. IT'S ALWAYS
INSPIRING, NO MATTER WHAT IT IS."

- BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN

1 INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 1

In a sea of black, ELIZABETH (20, emotionally impenetrable,

reminiscent of a porcelain doll, reeking of poise, every
eyelash curled flawlessly in place) sits infuriatingly
upright, her hair tied back in a ballerina bun, bewitched and
ever so subtly and sickishly intoxicated by the spectacle
before her.

V.O.

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

I don't know how to start.

CRISTINA (mid 20s, fiery store-bought-box red head) and JOE

(early 30s, All-American quarterback handsome), in a
haphazard attempt at 1940s period dress, dance round one
another without direction on the empty stage. Hugging
opposite sides of the space, they timidly perform the scene
by Arthur Miller with minimal skill, but feverous passion.

Joe nervously moves towards Cristina, taking her sweaty hands

in his.

2 EXT. UPPER WEST SIDE STREETS, NEW YORK CITY - DAY 2

(flashback)

Elizabeth, dressed in a blush leotard, layered sweaters, and

leg warmers, gracefully exits a large building; desperate
tears live and scratch trapped in her eyes. Latching onto the
canvas bag that seems determined to slip from her shoulder,
from which the ribbons on her ballet shoes dangle, she takes
small, careful breaths. She works to hold back the
increasingly inevitable flood, making only soft and swift eye
contact with those she passes on the street, her pace
quickens as the street numbers decline.

V.O.

CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

It wouldn't work this way.

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

It's all mixed up with so many other

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 2.

things... You remember, overseas, I

was in command of a company?

CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

Yeah, sure.

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

Well, I lost them.

3 INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 3

Unsure of what to do with his body, Joe retreats to what was

his side of the stage. Following his unintentional lead,
Cristina hurries after him, locking them in an uncomfortable
corner upstage left. She drops her hands in his, where they
hang uncomfortably for some time before returning stiffly to
the centre of her torso, where they live clasping one another
until the painful scene's end.

CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

How many?

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

Just about all.

CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

Oh, gee!

Whilst strangely encircling Kate, attempting to make

effective use of the space, Joe's vocal quality intensifies,
his volume increasing, as he performs the speech.

CUT TO:

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

...I mean you can take those things
out of a war, but when you drive that
car you've got to know that it came
out of the love a man can have for a
man, you've got to be a little better
because of that. Otherwise what you
have is really loot, and there's blood
on it. I didn't want to take any of
it. And I guess that included you.

CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

And you still feel that way?

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

I want you now, Annie.

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CRISTINA (PLAYING ANN)

Because you mustn't feel that way any
more. Because you have a right to
whatever you have. Everything, Chris,
understand that? To me, to... and the
money, there's nothing wrong in your
money. Your father put hundreds of
planes in the air, you should be
proud. A man should be paid for
that...

JOE (PLAYING CHRIS)

Oh Annie, Annie... I'm going to make a
fortune for you!

Joe charges in planting a hardened kiss on Cristina. She

tries her best to play being into it, but the display is
vividly irksome. After a moment too long for the both of
them, they break away and turn out to face the audience.
Sounds of applause and excitement fill the space.

CUT TO:

Dead silence. Steel-toed black Western boots move slowly and

intentionally onto the stage. DERRICK DEMARCHIER (late 40s,
exceptionally self-assured, made attractive by the intensity
of his confidence and his intensity itself) offers his two
acting students nods of paternal approval, motioning them off
his stage with his eyes.

The pair take their respective seats in the audience, amongst

diverse clusters of focused aspiring actors clutching
notebooks, pens, play scripts and sides, hanging in
anticipation, waiting on words from their master. Elizabeth
sits in the very back of the theatre, on her own, separate in
every sense of the word.

Whilst calmly pacing back and forth downstage, Derrick locks

eyes with his transfixed students. Finally, he pauses, subtly
thrusts his pelvis forward in his slightly too snug Levi's
501s as he prepares to speak, thus quenching the anticipatory
thirst of his audience.

DERRICK
So, let's start with you Cristina. How
was that for you?

CRISTINA
Well.. I mean, it was alright. I mean,
I think it was alright. I dunno, I was
pretty nervous to be honest.

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DERRICK
You were nervous. Why do you think
that is?

CRISTINA
I don't know...

Derrick places his hands in his back pockets, nodding to

himself as he resumes his careful pace, whilst maintaining
sharp but sensitive eye contact with his pupil.

DERRICK
You're nervous but you don't know why
you're nervous.

CRISTINA
I mean, I guess it's just, I really do
believe I am meant to do this. But
it's like I have one experience
rehearsing in my apartment. Right,
Joe?

Cristina looks over to her scene partner sat on the other

side of the theatre, hoping his countenance will offer some
kind of support; the sound of silence catches his attention,
diverting it away from the Tinder game in which he was
engaged. Unsure of the correct response, he nods.

CRISTINA
It felt better this afternoon? But
it's like I get up there, and I don't
know.

DERRICK
And how was that for you, Joe?

Joe clears his throat whilst cocksurely preparing his reply.

JOE
Yeah, it was alright. Could have been
better.

DERRICK
Could have been better?

JOE
Yeah. Could have been better.

DERRICK
Did you run the lines 250 times?

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JOE
I think so. Tried to.

DERRICK
You tried. A hilarious little word
that is. To try is to excuse yourself
of failure in advance, and to hope
that the rest of us will forgive you
because we feel, well, we feel
forewarned of your inevitable
disappointment. Right? Let's ask
ourselves: what does it actually mean
'to try'? How about this... Charlie!
Chair!

CHARLIE (female, early thirties, but working real hard to

appear late 20s) surfaces from the wings, with a director's
folding chair in tow. She places the chair next to Derrick,
offers a quick easy smile and disappears.

DERRICK
Let's play a little game here,
everyone. Watch me. I'm going to try
and pick up this chair.

Derrick stares at the chair without moving a muscle.

DERRICK
It's not particularly gripping for an
audience, is it? Now, either I pick up
the chair.

He walks over to the chair, picks it up and puts it back

down, offering a triumphant smile, before returning to his
position centre stage.

DERRICK
Or I don't pick up the chair.

He stands in place for a moment, staring at the chair.

DERRICK
This sorta looks a lot like trying to
pick up the chair, doesn't it?

His eyes zero in on Joe.

DERRICK
Do you understand what I'm saying
here?

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JOE
I get it.

DERRICK
He gets it! Great. Listen people,
you're going to have whatever
experience you want to have up here,
the one you work to have. Love takes
time. Love. Takes. Time. If you love
something, it's not a chore to put in
the hours, cause hey you're not doing
me any favours here. I don't need you
to become a brilliant actor. I've made
enough brilliant actors in my career.
I can tuck in happy. It's your dreams
on the line. So, are you going to try
to make them happen? Which, as you've
all just seen, looks a helluva lot
like not making them happen? Or are
you going to show the love you all
speak of? I'm going to say it one more
time, and write this down in your
notebook, or iPhone, or in ink on your
arm if you have to. Whatever is going
to make it stick for you - love takes
time.

Here's your homework for this week

everyone. I want you all to go home
and type into youtube "Bruce
Springsteen and Tom Morello Ghost of
Tom Joad."

The students all take notes.

DERRICK
Now, I want you to pay very close
attention to what Tom does with his
guitar. I dare you not to weep. This
man's mastery of an instrument is
astonishing.

DERRICK
Do you think that this guy tried to
practice? Do you think he fiddled
around a little and then said 'nah,
fuck it, let's grab a beer.' I don't
think so. The passion, the commitment,
the love that you see in this
performance will blow your mind.

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Captivated yet still composed, Elizabeth's eyes are glued to

Derrick. She's set afire, and most simply, excited, by his
words.

DERRICK
And it will inspire you, I think.

Derrick offers a most disarming smile, the sort of grin that

beckons a big bear hug.

DERRICK
And hey, he's got the boss up there
with him, and you all know how I feel
about the boss.

The audience, all generally mesmerized, share a communal

chuckle, enjoying this brief moment of levity in air.

DERRICK
Now, let's come back to you, Cristina,
and these nerves you speak of. Anyone
else out there know what she's talking
about? Any of you had the experience
of nailing it in the rehearsal, and
then you turn up here, you get in your
costume, we pull these lights down...
Charlie!

From the wings, Charlie dims the lights, shining a singular

spotlight on Derrick, who now stands eyes wide shut.

DERRICK
You close your eyes, and suddenly, you
feel completely terrified?

After a moment, he opens his eyes again and surveys the

audience, clocking their individual acknowledgement.

DERRICK
So the real question here is, what are
you so afraid of? We're in class.
We're not 'on the job'. Scorcese's not
watching and waiting for us to blow
him away, well - not just yet
anyways... This is a safe space. And
we're all friends here, aren't we? So
what are you afraid of? Cristina, what
are you afraid of?

CRISTINA
I don't know. I mean, you're right.

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DERRICK
This isn't about bring right or wrong.
This is about identifying and facing
that fear head on, not just for you
Cristina, but for all of us. We learn
here through each other's work, that's
why I teach this class as I do.

I think, what you're really 'nervous'

about here, is your own self-
criticism. That little voice in your
head that goes 'that wasn't good
enough,' 'you're shit,' 'that was
shit, so, you're shit.' Echoes of our
childhoods. Ghosts of early rejection
in life. That shit haunts us. It does,
doesn't it?

(He giggles to himself)

We come into this world pure and free

and eager to play, to discover, to
dream. And then, life gets in the way,
does't it? And it makes us lose hope.
It makes us hard, and fearful, and...
nervous. But what we're really afraid
of is ourselves. We grow accustomed to
rejection, so we save everyone else
the trouble and we just go ahead
rejecting ourselves before they get a
chance to.

Gentle tears stream down Cristina's face. She accepts her

display of emotion, proudly flashing her tears.

4 EXT. OUTSIDE BLACK BOX THEATRE, NYC - NIGHT 4

The sounds of New York City's midtown at night, taxi horns

and sirens, swirl in symphony. Like a solider in the wake of
a tragic battle, Cristina drags on her cigarette in
exhaustion and defeat. SUSAN (mid 50s, matronly yet well
botox-ed) strokes her shoulder, whilst pointlessly waving the
smoke away from her face.

Elizabeth timidly exits the theatre and lights a cigarette.

She hangs back studying Cristina from a slight distance as
though she were some sort of fascinating, foreign prototype
of a person. After a moment, Elizabeth musters the courage
and moves over towards the twosome.

CRISTINA

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Hi!

Cristina flashes a megawatt faux smile, boldly signifying the

swing of her emotional pendulum.

ELIZABETH
Hi. That was um, really great. I
thought.

CRISTINA
Really? Thanks. I mean, nah, I was
shit. It'll be better when we bring it
back in a few weeks. Sometimes you
think it's ready to share but it's
just... it's just not.

Cristina, once again enwrapped in her own self-loathing

struggles to make eye contact.

SUSAN
What's your name honey? I'm Susan.

ELIZABETH
Elizabeth.

SUSAN
Welcome. It's your first class, right?

Elizabeth nods, whilst curiously studying Cristina.

5 INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 5

Like a king greeting his subjects, Derrick sits on stage in

his folding director's chair nodding to the sounds of classic
rock and roll that play in the background, from assistant-turned-
DJ Charlie's iphone. A clean line of students await his
individual attention. Each emotional interchange concludes
with a cuddly, warm hug as the students, one by one, return
to their seats, seemingly touched, emotionally, by their
respective moments with their mentor.

6 EXT. OUTSIDE BLACK BOX THEATRE, NYC - NIGHT 6

SUSAN
It's great to have you in the group.
I'm Susan.

ELIZABETH
Hi. Thanks.

SUSAN

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So has Charlie found you a scene

parter?

ELIZABETH
No, not yet. I guess I should talk to
her about that. Probably.

SUSAN
Oh, don't worry. I remember the first
time I shared, I was so nervous.

ELIZABETH
Really? Have you always been an
actress?

SUSAN
I wish. I really do. I wanted to act,
but life got in the way. But my kids
are all grown up, and it's my time
now. It's never too late to pursue
your dreams.

CRISTINA
Amen.

SUSAN
Anyways, don't worry. Derrick is so
welcoming. He always knows how to pair
up a newcomer. Or sometimes he
recommends you start with a monologue.

Cristina nods in seemingly enthusiastic agreement, though

there's a darkness that seeps through her smile.

CRISTINA
He'll know exactly what's right for
you.

ELIZABETH
Cool.

Awkwardness moves round the triangular social form.

SUSAN
So, Have you done much acting before?

ELIZABETH
Um, no, not really. I'm - no, I was a
ballet dancer. But I... I'm doing the
college thing now.

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CRISTINA
Amazing. What are you studying? I've
got a BA in Theatre, but you know, you
gotta keep training. Like an athlete,
Derrick always says.

SUSAN
As an actor, you can never stop
learning.

CRISTINA
So true.

Cristina and Susan nod in agreement, as though they'd just

completed some form of ideological secret handshake.

CRISTINA
So, what are you studying?

ELIZABETH
Um, I haven't declared my major yet. I
like Art History. But I think, I guess
my parents would like me to study
something more practical now. Ya know?
So I guess like probably poli-sci.

CRISTINA
But you want to be an actor, right?

ELIZABETH
Um yeah. I think so. Well, we'll see.
I guess, I'd just, like to be
something ya know. I'm really just
trying to figure it out. Or, not
trying. I don't really know. You?

CRISTINA
Since I was a little girl! I was
always the star of the school plays,
and putting on shows in the backyard.
They say I came outta the womb singing
and dancing. I really can't imagine
doing anything else.

SUSAN
They do say that. Like, if you're
going to be an actor, it's got to be
the only thing you could imagine
yourself doing.

ELIZABETH

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That's kinda funny.

Cristina quite suddenly sharpens.

CRISTINA
What do you mean?

Hoping to make friends, a general challenge for her,

Elizabeth swiftly dissolves the line of potentially
contentious discourse.

ELIZABETH
Oh, I don't really know.

CRISTINA
So you're a ballerina! That's cool. I
did loads of musical theatre in high
school. I miss dancing. Do you miss
ballet? You must still dance, right?

They hear the faint sound of the music from the theatre stop.
Susan checks her watch. Cristina and Susan hurry in.
Elizabeth hangs back for a moment, interested and amused by
the exchange.

7 EXT. LINCOLN CENTER - NIGHT 7

Standing in line, waiting patiently, Elizabeth flips between

cautiously studying her colour-coded art history cue cards
and sneaking glances at the monologue she holds on a printed
scrap piece of paper. Finally, she approaches the young box
office attendant.

ELIZABETH
One student ticket for Don Quixote
please.

Elizabeth stares off at foyer, gradually flooding with the

evening's audience.

8 INT. DANCEWEAR SHOP, SOHO - DAY 8

Folding unitards, Elizabeth stands behind the cashier's till,

studying a petulant five-year-old aspiring Ballerina, tempers
in full flare, frenetically demanding a fuscia tutu. Her
glamorously passive mother concedes with little resistance.

Watching the child's tantrum performance, she whispers lines

to herself, keeping a tally on the scrap of a discarded
receipt. She's nearly reached 250 dashes.

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9 INT. COLLEGE DORM ROOM, NEW YORK CITY - DAY 9

In a pale pink terrycloth bath robe, Elizabeth stands

uncomfortably before her vanity mirror, bordered with images
of iconic Ballerinas. She carefully loosens the belt on her
robe to lower the drop of the neckline. The mirror reflects
the image of a cheap poster of Modigliani's "Reclining Nude
from the Back" (1917) which hangs on the wall above her bed,
on the distinctively organized, powder-pink-dressed, side of
the compact room. On her small bookcase, amid a series of
text books, photos of her as a child ballerina embracing her
proud parents sit carefully positioned. On the lowest shelf,
hidden behind a heavy text book, rests a white fluffy teddy
bear adorning medals upon medals, of every ranking - gold,
silver, bronze - all engraved with ballerina figures. Her
feet stand turned out, casually in first position, before an
impeccably neat row of sneakers and clogs. Miniature water
drops slink off the ends of her long, soaked hair,
disappearing into the drab of the linoleum floor.

ELIZABETH
(to herself in the mirror) Do you
remember how you shot a seagull once?
A man chanced to pass that way and
destroyed it out of idleness. That is
an idea for a short story, but it is
not what I meant to say -

HOLLY (early 20s, doe-eyed, bubbly All-American blonde)

hurries in, proudly sporting her sorority sweatshirt, with
DAVID (early 20s, hearty and handsome in the Abercrombie &
Fitch sort of way), who slobbers enthusiastically on her
face. Caught off guard by their entrance, Elizabeth
immediately tightens the belt on her robe and grabs her hair
brush, combing through her long, wet mane.

HOLLY
Oh hi! I thought you had class.

ELIZABETH
I um, I dunno, I skipped it.

Holly and David both work to appear pleasantly amused by the

fundamental inconvenience of her presence.

HOLLY
Okay.

The three stare at one another awkwardly for a moment. The

girls each firmly holding their ground.

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ELIZABETH
Hi David.

DAVID
Hey... uh.

ELIZABETH
Elizabeth.

DAVID
Yesss. Lizzy!

A triangle of gazes contort between the three, each

resolutely prepared to enter the battle for space and
privacy.

ELIZABETH
So, what should we all do?

Holly stares down at David in epic disapproval, effectively

declaring it to be his responsibility to discover an
alternate solution. David stumbles to find his phone; after
some time, he finds it in his back-pocket where it generally
lives.

DAVID
Oh, what do you know? My roommate's
just left for his Students For an
Orwellian Society meeting. Sick!

Holly smiles and seductively draws David out of the dorm

room.

DAVID
Bye Lizzy!

10 INT. COLLEGE DORM HALLWAY, NEW YORK CITY - DAY 10

Though his hand's tucked into the back pocket of Holly's

unseasonal Daisy Dukes, David finds himself dragged down the
hall, his mind slightly elsewhere.

DAVID
Your roommate is kinda weird.

HOLLY
I know. I have tried inviting her out
once, but it's like she never wants to
do anything fun. She danced with like
the NYC Ballet for like a season or
something like that but then she was

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fired, or quit, I don't really know.

DAVID
Oh. That sucks. You train like your
whole life for that shit. What's she
gonna do now?

HOLLY
I don't know. Wait, why do you care?

DAVID
I don't.

HOLLY
Good.

To his surprise, Holly hops onto David, straddling him like a

hanging monkey, devouring his face.

11 INT. COLLEGE DORM ROOM, NEW YORK CITY - DAY 11

Re-focused after the intrusion, Elizabeth once again looses

the belt of her robe, and returns to her own gaze in the
mirror. Staring intently at herself, she elongates her spine,
takes a deep breath and continues to rehearse.

ELIZABETH (PLAYING NINA)

What was I saying?--

12 INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 12

In suggested Chekhovian period dress, Elizabeth stands

confidently, absorbing the committed attention of her fellow
classmates, revelling as all actors do in a the gift of a mid-
speech pause.

Stood centre stage in the painful silence of the space, she

shuts her eyes for a moment, opening them to reveal an
imagined image of her two parents, staring back at her
hopefully, yet critically, illuminated singularly in a pitch
black audience. She quivers, closes her eyes once again,
hones in on the scarcely identifiable figure of Derrick, sat
in the dark wings at the corner of the stage, smiling in
anticipation.

She takes an intimate pursed breath, and continues to

skillfully and subtly perform the monologue.

ELIZABETH (PLAYING NINA)

--Oh yes, the stage. I have changed
now. Now I am a real actress. I act

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with joy, with exaltation, I am

intoxicated by it, and feel that I am
superb. I have been walking and
walking, and thinking and thinking,
ever since I have been here, and I
feel the strength of my spirit growing
in me every day. I know now, I
understand at last, Constantine, that
for us, whether we write or act, it is
not the honour and glory of which I
have dreamt that is important, it is
the strength to endure. One must know
how to bear one's cross, and one must
have faith.

13 MONTAGE: INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 13

** Cristina speedily running lines from her "All My Sons"

scene whilst peeing in the grimy theatre bathroom

** A sporty seven year old girl in the theatre audience is

quietly berated by her aggressive showbiz mom

** Two robust middle aged men in a narrow corridor of the

theatre rehearsing a scene from "Jesus Hopped the A Train"

** A stunning but give-the-girl-a-sandwich model-type sits

silently in the audience, slowly savouring minuscule bites of
a green Granny Smith apple, shifting her eye line between
Derrick and Charlie

** Charlie tucked behind her laptop, emailing students,

chasing payments for class enrolment, whilst managing
Derrick's social media profiles

** Derrick, sat in his director's chair on stage, greeting

his loyal subjects, one-by-one; Elizabeth is next in line

END OF MONTAGE

14 INT. INTIMATE STUDIO THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT 14

DERRICK
Hello Elizabeth.

ELIZABETH
Hi.

DERRICK
Hi. Well, that was very special.

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ELIZABETH
Really?

DERRICK
Do you disagree?

ELIZABETH
I don't know. I guess it's hard to be
know with these things. Hard to judge
yourself, you know?

DERRICK
We don't judge here. That's what the
outside world is for. In here, we
experiment. We grow. We discover.

ELIZABETH
Yeah I guess. I just... I don't really
know if I like want to be an actor
really. Well, I guess I don't know if
that's an option. Like if I have the
talent to -

DERRICK
I don't believe in talent. Talent is
an arbitrary and disempowering word
used to mystify and discourage. I
believe in discipline, determination,
and love.

ELIZABETH
Yeah. I guess I just don't know if I'm
good enough, or if I can be good
enough.

DERRICK
Only you can answer that question for
yourself. I don't know what you've got
in you. I don't know what you want,
or, how badly you want it. But, I do
know that I think everyone should
train as an actor. I think it's a
really good thing. It's about being
comfortable in your own skin, pushing
yourself beyond the boundaries of your
comfort zone, really, it's about joy
tolerance. So, maybe that's why you're
here with us, to play, to learn to
tolerate joy.

Unsure of what to say, Elizabeth offers a humble smile.

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Derrick studies her softly; his gaze is at once both paternal

and predatory.

DERRICK
Charlie will be in touch with some
recommendations about what we feel you
might like to work on next.

As he did with all others before, Derrick spreads his arms,

offering his signature hug. She caves into the embrace with
little hesitancy. Her head nestled between his neck and
shoulder, she can't help but savour a whiff of his cologne,
almost loosening into the pleasure of its inhalation. Holding
on tight to Elizabeth, Derrick glances over at Charlie, who
smiles back and nods in agreement.

15 EXT. OUTSIDE BLACK BOX THEATRE, NYC - NIGHT 15

Students pour out of the theatre; some slinking off their

respective ways, there's talk of a group mission to for
beers. Cristina, Susan, and a few others encircle Elizabeth,
championing her performance. The apple-eating model stares at
her solemnly from a slight distance, before ultimately
disappearing into the dark street on her own.

JOE
C'mon. Come for one beer.

Swallowing pain and envy, Cristina nods in agreement.

ELIZABETH
Thanks. I think I'm just gonna head
home actually though.

CRISTINA
Are you sure babe?

ELIZABETH
Yeah. Thanks.

CRISTINA
Okay cool, well lead the way guys. See
you next week babe.

The group head off down the street. Though pulled by

Cristina, Joe turns back and offers Elizabeth an inviting
smile.

Stood on her own outside the theatre, revelling proudly in

the joy of her evening's performance, Elizabeth switches her
phone off of airplane mode to discover a text message from

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Charlie, accompanied with a pin drop location:

"Hi Elizabeth, Derrick asked me to send along these details.

He'd love for you to meet us here after class this evening.
Hope to see you soon. X Charlie."

She looks around, considering following the shadows of her

classmates in their beer-pursuant, and immediately works to
hail a cab.

16 EXT. WEST VILLAGE STREETS, NYC - NIGHT 16

Elizabeth nervously approaches the door to a charming West

Village brownstone. Double checking the pin drop location,
she clocks the matching building number and stares at the
buzzer. She hesitates for a moment, fishes a compact mirror
and a pale pink glittery lipgloss stick from her ramshackle
handbag. She locks eyes with herself in the minuscule mirror,
applies the gloss, rubs her lips together, and finally
presses the buzzer.

DERRICK (V.O.)
Hello?

Elizabeth struggles to respond to the friendly voice.

DERRICK (V.O.)
Hello??

ELIZABETH
Hi.

The voice now sounds as though it's smiling.

DERRICK (V.O.)
Welcome.

As the door unlocks, her lips purse open as though she were
about to exhale, yet she hangs on to the breath; the
automatic light in the entryway illuminates the glitter in
her lips' fresh, blush stain.

THE END

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