A sweltering, sun-bleached afternoon. Heat haze shimmers off the asphalt. The street is a mix of old brick architecture and trendy new storefronts.
SOUND of city traffic, a distant siren, the oppressive hum of summer.
LEO (21), pragmatic and anxious, cranes his neck, studying the side of a three-story brick building. Above a sleek VAPE SHOP, a massive, faded advertisement is painted directly onto the brick. A GHOST SIGN.
LEAF (21), a thoughtful observer, stands beside him. She isn't looking at the sign, but at the people passing on the sidewalk, her gaze distant, imaginative.
CLOSE ON - THE GHOST SIGN
The paint is cracked and peeling. We can just make out the words: "BALSAM OF LIFE" and below it, "Cures All Nervous Afflictions."
Sounds like something you'd sell.
Leaf snaps out of her reverie, swatting his arm playfully.
Leaf leans against the hot glass of the vape shop window, a thoughtful look on her face.
She looks up at the sky, a private, contented smile on her face. She doesn't look adrift. She looks free. Leo watches her, a knot of concern in his brow.
The blast of AIR CONDITIONING hits them as they step inside. It’s a physical shock. The space is cool, dark, filled with the scent of roasted coffee.
SOUND of an espresso machine hissing, quiet indie music, the clatter of ceramic.
They sit at a small table by the window, holding plastic cups of iced coffee beaded with condensation. Outside, the traffic on the Osborne bridge shimmers.
Leo swirls his cup, rattling the ice cubes.
A GUY at the next table glances over. Leaf lowers her voice, but her intensity remains.
Leo stares down into his cup, shaking his head in a small, frustrated motion. His voice is quiet, vulnerable.
The words land. Leaf’s passionate certainty falters. She looks out the window, at the shimmering heat, her own reflection staring back. For a moment, the romanticism fades, replaced by a flicker of doubt.
The oppressive heat clamps down again. Leaf and Leo walk along a path near the river.
SOUND of cicadas buzzing, growing louder than the traffic.
A tense, thoughtful silence hangs between them. Leo turns her words over in his head. Leaf watches him, opens her mouth to say something—that logic isn't the point—but closes it. She lets the silence be.
A PHONE BUZZES.
Leo stops. He pulls his phone from his pocket.
He doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on the screen.
CLOSE ON LEO'S THUMB
It hovers over the screen, trembling slightly. The abstract debate about fear has just become terrifyingly real.
Leo takes a sharp breath, like a man about to dive into ice-cold water.
FADE TO BLACK.
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