Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Two Winters Past





INT. HOUSE. DAY.

KAY and MIRANDA are in the kitchen. 

KAY: You said you can cook? Does your stove work?

MIRANDA: No, but I have a grill. My son brought it for me. Propane too.

KAY: He sounds great. He’s not here? I don’t get to meet him?

MIRANDA: Probably thinking of stealing him away, no doubt. That’s okay, he’ll be back, and if you’re not ready to move on, we have room for you. Did you lose your father, Stacy?

KAY looks down, she hesitates.

MIRANDA: You don’t have to.

KAY: It’s fine. It smells so nice in here. Is that fresh-cut flowers?

MIRANDA: Was it the sick people?

KAY: (shakes her head.) We were in Ithaca, hadn’t been there more than a day, and didn’t see anyone. You don’t see a lot of those people, except in the cities. They don’t bother you unless you make yourself real obvious. Wasn’t nothing in Ithaca. We thought it was a paradise.

KAY’s fingers are tight on the edge of her chair. MIRANDA scoops a cup of water.

MIRANDA: Have some water. I boil it ever morning, so it’s clean.

KAY: We shouldn’t talk about this.

MIRANDA: That’s fine, sweety. Anything you want to talk about.

KAY: There is someone else.

MIRANDA: I’m the only one here...

KAY: I mean me! There is a man. He followed me here. He’s probably watching the house.

MIRANDA: Nonsense.

KAY: We have to hide. He followed me all the way from Ithaca. He’s dangerous!

MIRANDA: Who is this man?

Heavy tread walks across the front porch and knocks on the front door. KAY is terrified.




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