Killing Zoe Page #4

ZOEY:

I don't paint. I make things. Objects.

Not like sculpture. Like life...but with

no narrative. I want when someone looks

at one of my objects for there to be no

reference to the world. Void of feeling,

emotion...void of destiny. Those are

left for me. They belong only to me. If

someone else can see into it...then it is

no longer mine. I have failed. And I

would destroy it. I don't care how much

cash they would offer me. It would be

sh*t. I can't tell you how many objects

of mine have been destroyed. They told

too much about me. And if someone wants

to know something about me...I'll tell

them myself. The way I'm telling you.

She looks back at him.

ZOEY:

What I do I do only for the objects.

ZED:

I'd like to see one of these.

ZOEY:

What? So you could see the work of a

whore?

He decides to put a stop to this once and for all.

ZED:

Zoey. I'm sorry for calling you a

prostitute. I didn't understand the

difference.

ZOEY:

The difference is a prostitute would have

lied to you about her orgasm.

He gives her a kiss.

ZED:

If these things you make are as true as

you are...I'm sure they're as

indescribable. Perhaps, someday, you'll

make one...about me.

ZOEY:

If I do...you'll never know which one it

is. Because I'll be the only one who

understands. I'll be the only one who

can look into it and see where in my life

it came from.

Zed is unable to speak. They look into each others eyes for

a long moment, hearing the sounds of the city drift in

through the window. Then she leans forward and gives him a

soft understanding kiss.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ZED'S ROOM - NIGHT

Zed is asleep. Zoey is asleep in his arms.

There is a knocking at the door.

Zed opens his eyes.

The knock becomes a pound.

Zed gets up and puts on his pants. Zoey gets up and looks

around.

ZOEY:

(groggily)

What time is it?

ZED:

I have no idea. Night time.

There is more pounding on the door.

ZOEY:

I'm going to take a shower.

She trots off naked to the bathroom and starts the shower.

Zed walks over to the door and opens it up.

Standing in the hall is Eric, a Frenchman of Zed's age

wearing baggy French-style clothes.

ERIC:

(with a thick accent)

Hey you madman!

Zed's happy to see him.

ZED:

Eric. Come in.

They hug.

ERIC:

What happened to you? I thought you were

going to call.

Eric walks in and starts to notice the traces of wild love

making around the room.

ERIC:

(smiling)

Oh I see. You have been busy.

ZED:

Sorry, I asked the hotel to give me a

wake up call.

ERIC:

That's good, but now I am here. So let's

go. We have a lot to talk about.

ZED:

What about the girl?

ERIC:

Is she your girlfriend?

ZED:

No.

ERIC:

F*** her.

He peeks into the bathroom.

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