…when it all hits her. She leans on a chair, clenching its backing in her hands to relieve the sharp pain in her chest. She’s experiencing the suffocation of loneliness. Tiny rain drops dance along the tiny skylight above her. She doesn’t notice.
Outside, the rain turns from droplets to a heavy pour. We see a little girl holding her daddy’s hand, as they run towards an awning for shelter. The little girl almost trips, but he holds tight and slings her up onto the sidewalk. Safety.
She doesn’t grab her purse. Or even her keys, for that matter. With an empty expression, she puts one foot in front of the other and walks towards the door.
(The Fray’s cover of Kanye’s “Heartless’ begins playing – this is where the ladies in the theatre will get a little lump in their throat and remember something they’ve been through, thus making this scene relatable.)
In less than a moment, her stringy hair is soaked, messy and pressed against her forehead and cheeks. Her beautifully full lashes collect each raindrop as it lands, holding for a moment before sending it off on a ride down her cheeks. She moves in slow motion while we see the dozens of pedestrians around her, running at a hurried pace. Briefcases are hugged. Strollers are protected. Newspapers held over heads. Cab lights off. Cafe tables abandoned.
An areal shot allows us to see the last of the people avoiding the wet, the only stillness in the shot being our girl. She stands in one place on the sidewalk until she is the only one left.
A close up of her sandals. Her feet appear lifeless.
Her toes begin to wiggle, and she starts again.
She walks. Alone, down a street normally buzzing with crowds. Around the corner. Through the park. A homeless man on a bench, his life belongings soaked at his side, looks up and watches her move in sadness. Despite his dirty appearance and obvious need for a shave, his corneas are stark white. He looks back down at his hands where he plans to stay until the sun reappears.
A first story apartment window, we see a man and woman standing in their kitchen. She’s washing the dishes, he’s drying. He playfully touches her ass and she sweeps his arm away with a smile. Our girl sees this from the opposite side of the street. Although her face remains expressionless, she crosses and stops in front of their window, observing. They never see her, which is a good thing because she is staring. If they had, it would have scared them. She is in no way trying to hide. Does she want them to see her? Maybe.
(“Heartless” plays louder. It’s the bridge of the song. The lumps in the ladies’ throats are swollen and by now a few tears made it out alive.)
She turns to cross back to the other side of the street. We hear the horn of a car, she turns just in time to see a cab swerving to miss her. They make eye contact. He yells and waves his arms in the air but his windows are up so we do not hear him. She continues on.
Around the corner. She stops abruptly and looks right, we’re back at her front door. We don’t know if she walked ten blocks or ten miles. And because of the rain, we don’t even know if she cried. We only know that she’s home.
We just witnessed the loneliest moment of her life.
A close up of her front door. The song ends. Fade to black.
At the end of the movie, we pan out to Kanye’s original version of “Heartless”, which continues through the credits. She’s alone but not lonely. She’s happy. She’s just being. Because she’s a woman. And women always bounce back.
On the DVD, this scene will be titled, “Around the Corner”.
This has been a scene from a movie I will never write.