INT. JANET’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
And then the doorbell rings.
Who is it?
DR. JAMISON (O.S)
It’s the Doc!
Janet hangs up , rips the door open. She’s so happy to see him, the only word that comes to mind is:
Janet, honey, I’m sorry I’m late.
I couldn’t get to the phone. Then
your number was busy and… I
hate the phone anyway…
I love you. I missed you.
I’ll tell you why I was late.
I don’t care! Let’s go. Let’s
get out of here.
Well, it has a slight impact on
Like what —
Slowly, she releases him.
I guess I wanted to tell you this
before we flung ourselves into
Don’t…not on the porch.
She pulls him inside, and he goes to sit at the furthest possible chair in her small apartment.
I’ve been trying to figure out
how to say this…
CUT ABRUPTLY TO:
except now he’s wearing a clown suit and reindeer antlers.
…and I don’t want to sit here
and say all those those cliched things
like ‘I need room’ or ‘I’m not
used to someone liking me so
BACK TO DR. JAMISON
who is now drenched in mud.
…but I do need some room and I’m
not used to someone liking me so
much…I’m just being honest
who remains stoic. An inner wall rises, a coldness takes over her stare. We hear BLUES GUITAR as we —
EXTREME CLOSE ANGLE ON A FINGER
tracing down the names under the “J” listing in Janet’s filofax. She reaches Jamison’s entry, and then produces a bottle of Liquid Paper. She dips the brush…and in strong, deliberate, even strokes she obliterates all sign of him. To white