Читать книгу It’s About Love - Steven Camden, Steven Camden - Страница 6

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM – NIGHT

Black.

Hum of a strip light and radio static as a dial tries to find a station.

Fade up to a face. YOUNG MAN. Wheat-coloured skin. Dark hair cropped close. Radio static settles on ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.

Cut to wide shot. Emergency Room. Moulded red plastic chairs and cream walls. YOUNG MAN stares straight ahead, thick shoulders slumped, dark butterfly of blood spread across the chest of his white shirt. A POLICEWOMAN sits in the chair to his right, her body turned towards him.

POLICEWOMAN: Do you understand me?

YOUNG MAN just stares out. Circular clock on the wall above them says eleven thirty. Sinatra sings.

POLICEWOMAN: I need you to tell me what happened.

YOUNG MAN frowns.

Cut to black.

YOUNG MAN (VOICEOVER): Start where it matters, he said. Start in a moment where things hang in the balance. Start with a question. Then you can go back to wherever you like.

That’s fine, but you show me one moment where things don’t hang in the balance. Go on. Exactly.

So where to start?