She runs upstairs, giggling. The room is drying out, turning into a husk.
(calling after her)
I really should go. I really need to
catch my ride.
I didn’t want to go. I was too nervous.
I thought, maybe you were a nut. But you
were exciting. You called from upstairs.
I did. I walked out the door. I felt
like I was a scared little kid. I
thought you knew that about me. I ran
back to the bonfire, trying to outrun my
humiliation. You said, “so go” with such
(poking her head downstairs)
What if you stay this time?
I walked out the door. There’s no more
Come back and make up a good-bye at
least. Let’s pretend we had one.
Clementine comes downstairs, vague and robotic, making her way through the decaying environment.
I love you.
She smiles. They kiss. It fades.