Something Borrowed

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FADE IN:

CLOSE ON A WOMAN’S FACE, BEAUTIFUL AND STRONG. SHE’S CRYING.

INT. KAT’S BEDROOM - NEW YORK CITY - DAY

The woman is KAT ELLIS, 30. Tears stream down her face as

she sits cross-legged amid the detritus of a packing frenzy.

There is an unfortunate green bridesmaid’s dress hanging on

the back of the door.

Kat’s pain is palpable. She buries her head in her lap.

Suddenly, the doorbell RINGS.

Kat sits bolt upright, wide eyed. She looks around in

disbelief. How did this happen? What is she doing on the

floor?

KAT:

(sweetly)

Hold on!

INT. HALLWAY

A BIKE MESSENGER stands outside Kat’s door. He busts a

covert ipod dance while he waits.

KAT (O.S.)

Coming!

INT. KAT’S FOYER

Kat wipes her face and inhales, summoning deep calm.

INT. HALLWAY

The Bike Messenger looks up as the door swings open.

Kat is a changed woman. Nothing like the girl we saw on the

floor. You’d never know she had been crying. Or that she

even knows how.

KAT:

I’m so sorry. I wasn’t quite ready

for you.

Kat props the door open with her foot as she slides a plane

ticket into an envelope. She scribbles a name on the

envelope, seals it, and hands it to him.

BIKE MESSENGER:

Lady, you said this was a rush. I

can’t rush anything anywhere if you

don’t give it to me.

Kat looks down at the envelope, she’s still holding on to it.

KAT:

It’s a plane ticket.

BIKE MESSENGER:

So it is.

KAT:

For a date.

(beat)

For my date. To my sister’s

wedding. In London.

(beat)

He’s never met my family.

BIKE MESSENGER:

I hear that noise.

Kat wills herself to surrender the envelope.

BIKE MESSENGER (CONT’D)

You need to let go.

KAT:

Yeah.

(beat)

You’re going to have to help me.

The Bike Messenger gently tugs the envelope out of her hand.

Kat smiles.

KAT (CONT’D)

Thank you.

The Bike Messenger looks at her with genuine concern.

INT. KAT’S APARTMENT

Racing against time, Kat throws open a linen closet to reveal

three neat rows of plastic bins, all perfectly labeled. Kat

reaches into the bin marked "TRAVEL" and pulls out a prepacked

toiletry kit.

Kat pulls a box marked “LONDON” out from underneath her bed.

She opens it.

Pushing aside an old private school uniform and some letters,

she pulls out a worn London A-Z, a Ziploc marked “ADAPTERS,”

and her passport.

She’s about to close the box when she sees an old photo. In

it, a GORGEOUS GUY kisses Kat on the cheek. He’s holding the

camera himself -- it’s blurred and goofy, but full of love.

Kat jams it back in the box and shoves it under the bed.

EXT. NEW YORK STREET

The Bike Messenger darts in and out of traffic, avoiding the

throngs of NEW YORKERS enjoying this crisp fall day.

INT. KAT’S APARTMENT

Kat races through her apartment, packing, cleaning, getting

ready. Her place is small yet put together. It’s Crate and

Barrel meets Martha. But in a good way.

INT. KAT’S BATHROOM

Kat, finally still, stares into the mirror as she brushes her

teeth. There’s a strange intensity to it, like she’s

scrubbing away the last of her distress.

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