STAY Page #3

She lies down next to him.

8.

SAM:

Maybe I'm not ready for this. I'm

not so coordinated.

LILA:

That's okay. You're a sexy klutz.

They kiss. Lila pulls herself closer, her hands on Sam's

wrists. Abruptly, Sam pulls his long sleeves down farther, as

if to hide something on his wrists. Lila releases him.

.

For a moment both of them are quiet.

LILA (CONT'D)

You don't have to do that. You

don't have to hide from me.

Sam doesn't look at her.

SAM:

I'm not hiding.

LILA:

Sam.

Sam raises his head.

LILA (CONT'D)

Don't hide.

She kisses him. In the middle of the kiss a loud CRACK

startles both of them.

LILA (CONT'D)

What was that?

For a few seconds nothing happens. And then another CRACK,

and then another, coming rapid fire now, grape-size chunks of

ice falling from the sky and shattering on the paved

walkways.

SAM:

Hail.

INT. CAR -- NIGHT

DRIVER'S POV

We see the road through the driver's eyes. We're somewhere in

Brooklyn, driving fast through a string of green lights.

Everything is very, very quiet.

9.

We turn to the right. A GREEN-EYED WOMAN (20) sits in the

passenger seat. She says something, but we can't hear a word.

She smiles.

INT. SUBWAY CAR -- AFTERNOON

Henry opens his eyes. He sits in a car that shudders and

rattles its way through the underground. On his lap is a book

on the artist Tristan R.veur.

He pulls a cigarette from a pack and lights it.

Next to Henry sleeps a long-haired TEENAGE BOY wearing a

Walkman:
from the headphones we hear "I Shall be Released."

Various subway riders glare at Henry and wave away the smoke,

obviously annoyed that he's polluting their airspace.

A YOUNG WOMAN who wears her blonde hair in dreadlocks sits

across the car, watching Henry.

YOUNG WOMAN:

You go to Columbia, right? We were

both in Psych 221. Professor

Matthewson?

(pointing at his book)

You did your oral presentation on

psychosis and Tristan R.veur,

right?

Henry stares at her as if she's speaking an alien language. A

BUSINESSMAN standing between them, holding onto the metal

pole, wearing a gray suit and carrying an attache case,

shakes his head at Henry.

BUSINESSMAN:

No smoking on the train.

HENRY:

What?

BUSINESSMAN:

(pointing)

Look at the sign, fella. No smoking

on the train.

Henry looks at the sign.

INSERT NO SMOKING SIGN

10.

BUSINESSMAN (CONT'D)

Capeesh? Put it out.

HENRY:

Capeesh? Are you in the Mafia?

The businessman leans closer, until his face is inches from

Henry's.

BUSINESSMAN:

Put out the f***ing cigarette.

Henry slowly rolls his shirtsleeve back from his forearm. The

skin is mottled with fresh burns.

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