Into the Sunset an original screenplay by Kent G. Meloy and Jo Yates Meloy copyright 2013 Kent G. Meloy 7068 Monongahela Dr. Cincinnati, OH 45244 (513) 295-1230
[email protected] 1 INT. BUS - MORNING A hand rests quietly on the armrest of a worn seat, there is a scar forming on it from a recent burn. Shadows play across it as miles are ticking by. The seat is reclined, a beat-to- hell cowboy hat pulled down over the eyes of a lanky man, graying at the temples. Long legs, denim and leather boots. In the seat next to him is a long case, which is chained to his right wrist. The bus is mostly empty. Across the aisle and a row back from him a woman sits in the window seat. She looks at him intently. Eventually he stirs, pulls his seat into its upright position and shifts his hat back into it's natural attitude. He sits still for a bit with his eyes closed, letting them adjust to the bright sunlight before he finally opens them. GWEN Fifteen. SAUL Ma'am? GWEN Fifteen. The number of times you've adjusted your seat in the past half hour. Every two minutes. I timed it. SAUL Comfort is relative. GWEN The way I figure it you've traveled a half-mile farther than I have in the same amount of time just by sitting in that particular seat. SAUL You have a strange sense of etiquette when it comes to introductions. GWEN My mother always said I was a discerning and obstinate gnome.