EXT. NEW ENGLAND-STYLE RANCH HOME – SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD – DAWN
The dawn’s light illuminates a weathered truck in front of a New England-style ranch home.
CLOSE UP: Dewdrops on a spider web.
INT. DINING ROOM – DAWN
The MOTHER, in her 70s, sits at a cluttered table, her head in her hands, quietly crying. Around her are piles of old papers. Beside her, a silent shredding machine.
MOTHER (V.O.)
I’m writing this, with the heavy truth that you’ll never read it, echoing like a distant song in an empty room. Since that day, my world has been spinning, lost in the whirlwind of your emails telling me we can’t talk anymore.
CLOSE UP:The shredder’s teeth slowly grinding through paper.
EXT. HOUSE FRONT – DAWN
The MIDDLE-AGED MAN stands by the truck, looking at the house.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
I know that nothing is owed to me – not joy, not fortune, not love. Yet, just when I started to share my world with you, I was silenced, maybe forever.
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAWN
WORKERS 1 & 2 move silently, their shadows long, carrying boxes and bags.
CLOSE UP: The Mother reading the letter.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
Why? Why does my heart ache like this over you? You move in and out of my life like shadows under a red door, fleeting and elusive.
FLASHBACK: EXT. BEACH DUNES – SUNSET (YEARS AGO)
The beach is alive with laughter and chatter. Families and young people enjoy the sunset. A YOUNG WOMAN stands alone near the water’s edge her gaze fixed out in the distance..
CLOSE UP: The Young Woman’s eyes, reflecting the fiery hues of the sunset, a deep longing within.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
All I’ve ever wanted is to talk to you, but that seems like a dream too far out of reach. Our conversations, confined to emails and texts were like whispers in the night.
FLASHBACK: INT. BEDROOM – DAY (YEARS AGO)
A vibrant bedroom: a large TV at the foot of a well-furnished bed, surrounded by family photos, a bookshelf with well-thumbed novels, a cozy armchair.
CLOSE UP: A half-read novel on the nightstand, its pages worn from time and touch.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
I have to let you go, though every part of me resists. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.
INT. BEDROOM – DAY
In a dimly lit bedroom, WORKER 3 struggles with a dismantled hospital bed. The FATHER watches from the doorway..
CLOSE UP: Worker 3’s hands, grappling with the bed.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
Without you, life feels like a melody without a tune. I was on the edge, ready to step off into the void, before you came back, only to vanish once more.
EXT. BACKYARD – DAY
The Middle-Aged Man gazes out the window. His reflection overlays the scene of an overgrown garden and a rusted swing set.
CLOSE UP: The rusted chains of the swing, creaking quietly.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
I know I’ve crossed lines I shouldn’t have, but hurting you was never my intention.
FLASHBACK: INT. ICU ROOM – NIGHT (YEARS AGO)
The Middle-Aged Man lies in an ICU bed, machines beeping rhythmically. The room is dim, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of impending loss.
CLOSE UP: The heart monitor, its steady beeps a countdown to an inevitable end.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t live with the weight of this pain.
FLASHBACK: INT. VAN – WINTER (YEARS AGO)
A pizza box is carefully perched on the dashboard of a van navigating through a heavy snowstorm.
CLOSE UP: The pizza box, steam fogging the windshield.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
My entire existence has been leading to this moment of goodbye.
EXT. HOUSE FRONT – DUSK
The truck, now fully loaded, is ready to depart. The Middle-Aged Man takes one last, lingering look at the house.
CLOSE UP: His face, shows a blend of sorrow and acceptance.
INT. DINING ROOM – DUSK
The Mother, alone, turns off the shredder. The room falls into silence, save for the faint echo of her voice-over.
CLOSE UP: A single, unshredded photograph left on the table.
EXT. BEACH – SUNSET
The Middle-Aged Man stands alone on the beach, the letter in his hands. The sun sets behind him, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and purple.
CLOSE UP: His hand holding the letter.
FLASHBACK: INT. ICU ROOM – NIGHT (YEARS AGO)
The Middle-Aged Man in the ICU bed, machines beeping rhythmically. The Young Woman from earlier scenes is there, seated quietly, a silent sentinel in the dim light.
CLOSE UP: The Middle-Aged Man’s eyes, slowly closing, a tear escaping down his cheek.
MOTHER (CONTINUOUS V.O.)
Thank you, though, for letting me feel love, if only once, in a fleeting, beautiful moment, like a song that ends too soon.
EXT. BEACH – NIGHT
The Middle-Aged Man walks slowly along the beach, the crashing waves accompanying his solitary path.
CLOSE UP: His footprints in the sand, slowly being washed away by the tide.
FADE OUT:
END.
(Formatting adapted for blog post)
credit
Image created with ChatGPT & Dall-e.