The boy is near the top of the cliff before his agitated father
comes within earshot.
(out of breath, clutching his side)
Truman! Truman! Stop!
Truman turns from his perch and waves happily down to his
father. But the smile quickly vanishes when he registers the
anger and distress on his father's face.
Come down now!
His father's unnatural anxiety makes the next bay even more
tantalizing. The boy considers defying his father. He puts
his hand on the rock above him to stretch up and sneak a peek at
the other side. One good stretch would do it.
(reading Truman's mind, enraged)
(sensing his father is keeping
something from him)
Why? What's there?
Nothing's there. It's the same as this.
(trace of desperation)
Come down, please!
Truman is suddenly aware that the hundreds of other BEACHGOERS
have stopped their activities to stare at him. Reluctantly
he starts to retrace his steps down the rocks. When he finally
jumps to the sand, his father grabs him roughly by the arm and
drags him away down the beach.
I told you to stay close. Don't ever leave
my sight again. You gotta know your
limitations. You could've been washed
away by the tide.
EXT. LOWER MANHATTAN, FINANCIAL DISTRICT. MORNING.