Hotel room. Man, woman.
HOWARD!
WHAT??!! You woke me up! You're supposed to be gone.
HOWARD!
What the fuck? Go back to sleep, or roll over, or something. It's four am, for god's sake.
We—Howard—what if this is it! What if there’s no tomorrow for us! That's it!
I have a plane to catch, a flight, airport, traffic... [mumbling into a pillow with face turned]
HOWARD! You're local. You're gonna be gone and in four years, I'm going to try to find you again.
I'm not local. I live in Florida. You should go.
You wanted directions to the airport. I'm going to ride with you. I'm going to give you a ride, Howard. What if this is it, Howard? You know? It. And maybe you die. And maybe I die. And we never see each other again.
Maybe my name isn't Howard either. I can find the airport.
No comments:
Post a Comment