A lonely breath doth float Alex Whitmer

2 FADE IN EXT. SNOWY PARK DAY In the far distance, a solitary figure, PETER STROMN, late 20s, rugged good looks, snug in a long, black coat. He sits on a snow-covered bench, writes in a journal. INSERT PAGE: They breathe what they know in their deepest of souls. WOMAN #1, bundled under a long red coat and scarf, walks by. Her breath is white in the cold air. As she passes, her white breath lingers. Peter watches and writes. PETER (V.O.) Her short, light breaths tell me her lover has been near, and his kisses are still on her lips. VISION SEQUENCE Woman #1 and MAN - a sweet kiss. END VISION SEQUENCE Peter is alone again in the white. He writes. PETER (V.O.) The winter freezes their most recent moments like some cryogenic dream. A heart dissected. WOMAN #2, dressed in a long yellow coat, passes. Slow, white breaths fall from her red mouth. VISION SEQUENCE Woman #2 sits in a room, alone and sad. END VISION SEQUENCE Peter watches her pass and writes.

3 PETER (V.O.) She hates her reality. labor with-out love.

Dreary.

He is alone again. The world appears asleep. A noise. In the distance he sees a MOTHER and CHILD building a snowman. Mother puffs big white breaths. She loves fem. PETER (V.O.) everything about being

Peter wanders away, journal in his folded hands behind his back. Footprints are all that remain. FADE TO NIGHT New snow covers the prints. FADE TO DAY Peters FEET make their way through the new snow. Crunch, crunch. In the distance, a lone female figure, SYDNEY MOORE, early 20s, dressed in a long, black coat, sits in Peters spot. Peter watches her breath. Too shallow, too sporadic. Her breath quickly vanishes. Peter is confused, walks to the next bench and sits. He opens his journal, steals glances at Sydney. Peter writes. PETER (V.O.) Her breath lies. Conceals. from the winters microscope. Hides

A woman, bundled up in blue, walks by. Peter ignores her presence as he watches Sydney. Unmoving. Unflinching. PETER (V.O.) Who lives without emotion? Without - breathing?

4 SYDNEYS LIPS tremble in the cold. Ah! Recent tremble. Peter looks around. PETER (V.0.) Or, is it just the frozen morning? Peter focuses on his journal, not sure what to write. Another glance at Sydney beautiful and lonely. Breath barely visible. Peter strains looks away when Sydney notices him. Sydney smiles, watches his breath. VISION SEQUENCE Peter is stumble drunk. Its cold. Long breaths hang over him. He watches as GIRLFRIEND walks away. He reaches for her, desperate. PETER Amy! He falls on his back, stares up at the sky, mesmerized by his own breath. He looks again at Amy sorrowful puffs of breath with her tears. END VISION SEQUENCE A voice SYDNEY Youre a writer. Peter closes the book. PETER Not really. My pen thinks so! He scoots over. Sydney sits, takes in the surroundings. SYDNEY Nice place for a pen to dream. to see, quickly PETER (V.O.) passion make her lips

Peter watches her breath. Cautious and short. He takes the top off his thermos. Steam spills out. I call people. Almost a smile. SYDNEY I see. Peter offers the thermos. Sydney hesitates, then takes a few sips. She smiles, hands it back. Peter steals a glance at her breath still secret as he closes the thermos. PETER And you? SYDNEY Me what? PETER Not cold? SYDNEY A little yes. Im not used to the snow. PETER Oh. Just moved here? Sydney gazes out over the vast white, nods. Mother and Daughter work on the snowman. PETER (V.O.) Thats it. Lonely breaths. He picks up a handful of snow, shows it to Sydney. PETER Harmless, really. I would even argue -- essential. SYDNEY (smiles) it PETER the wine for morning

6 Really! PETER Yes, and probably the number one reason man figured out how to make a fire. Where would we be without that? Sydney rubs her hands together to keep warm. SYDNEY How I wish I had two sticks right about now. PETER I know just the place. Sydney studies him a moment, shakes her head. SYDNEY Let me guess. Your place? PETER No. Sorry, I didnt mean that. Both blush. PETER Um, a wonderful little caf just up the road. They have the best tapas and the best wine list in town. SYDNEY I dont drink. She watches Mother and Daughter a moment. She takes a deep breath, lets it spill. Peter watches, dissects it. Sydney points to his book. SYDNEY A thought for your pen. (a beat) I used to really enjoy zinfandel. Then one day I found myself with the wrong drinking partner. (looks around) And -- now here I am.

Sydney stands, offers her hand. SYDNEY Well, thanks for sharing your bench. PETER Welcome. Sydney walks away. Sad bursts of white breath. Peter watches her, then sits, opens his book, unsure what to write. Peter stands, calls to her. PETER The name of the caf is Silvias! My pen always orders the toast points! Sydney stops, doesnt look back. A moment and she nods, keeps walking. Big smile. She calls back SYDNEY Do they serve Zin? PETER Absolutely. Sydney waves, walks. Long puffs of white breath. Peter watches, writes. PETER (V.O.) A woman coming to life again. He walks, follows Sydneys footprints. FADE OUT