Moving through a murky haze. Dark blues and greens, shafts
of prismed purple. A pale shard appears in the distance.
Gliding closer, a group of tiny fish dart before the camera.
We're UNDERWATER. Arriving at the form, it finally sharpens
into focus. It's a WOMAN'S BODY submerged in dark water,
arms floating lazily at her side. The face is obscured by
flowing hair. All that is visible is a pair of COLD, STARING
GREEN EYES, which blink closed...
...then open as BLUE EYES, as a DIFFERENT FACE emerges from
water. CLAIRE SPENCER awakens from this unsettling dream in
her bathtub. She pivots the large BRASS SHOWER HEAD (the
kind that moves up and down on a pipe) off to one side,
reaches toward her feet and we hear the sound of a plug being
INT. BATHROOM - DAY
A HAZY SHAPE -- accompanied by a whirring sound.
A steam covered mirror is cleared with a BLOW DRYER. Claire
starts to come into focus. The dryer stops. She presses the
red G.F.I. button on the socket. ZAP! A big blue spark shoots
out. Claire pulls her hand back... and the dryer starts
She clears the mirror and replaces the dryer on a hook. She
regards herself in the mirror, and attractive, elegant-looking
woman around forty.
Claire traces a finger along a small but noticeable SCAR
above her left eye, then slowly drops the hand to her cheek,
as if confirming her existence.
INT. CLAIRE'S HOUSE - DAY
Claire, now dressed, presses her face against a door,
listening for the sounds of stirring from within. Silence.
She quietly pushes open the door.
INT. ROOM - DAY
Claire makes her way past half-filled boxes and duffels to a
window, then pulls the curtains to reveal:
A LOVELY, WOODED LAKE. It couldn't be more picturesque. A
24' SAILBOAT is moored at the dock and an OLD STONE LIGHTHOUSE
sits on a point across the lake.
The sunlight motivates an unconscious groan from A FIGURE
still shrouded by covers.
Claire sits beside the sleeping form. She scans the room
briefly, taking in a Greenpeace flag and a picture of a
tomboyish ten year-old girl at camp.
She gently pulls back the covers and peers down at the same
face, now a waifish, pretty seventeen year-old, with chopped
hair and tiny nose ring. Claire leans over and inhales the
sleeping scent of her only daughter, CAITLIN. She places her
hand on a cheek. The girl's eyelids flutter softly.
Caitlin lets out a grunt and rolls over onto her belly.
Let's go. Or we'll never leave on
From out of the pillow comes Caitlin's voice.
I'm totally ready.