A short film script.
[The instrumental parts of "Kodak Ghosts" by Michael Chapman plays throughout.]
Camera pans across a deserted room. Brightly lit, two receptionists argue on their phones with annoyed clients. One wears glasses. The other is instantly forgettable. A withered vase of daffodils limply offers some dim memory of spring.
A middle aged man with grey hair and brown leather coat sits staring out at the dimming light - obviously wishing to be elsewhere.
A short, reasonably attractive lady of middle age calls out his name. He responds and follows her. The camera tracks them walking up the corridor from behind.
CU, her: "It's just up here - they leave me in the corner", she says.
MS, him: "Okay, no problem".
MS, her: She points to the pokey little room, "in here, please."
CU of a tiny wood panelled room full of books and small bottles. The camera tilts down to a tiny school kid's chair and a comfortable padded office chair. "Take a seat, please."
MS: He sits glumly and waits for the questions. "How's it been, then?"
MS: "Yeah, okay." He then goes in to a long explanation of the last month since the Labyrinthitus hit and how it's been.
Camera slowly pans to MS of her seated: "Eczema, then? (cut to CU: he nods); [MS:] That's good. As long as you haven't used any steroids." She looks up hopefully.
Flashback: Visions of a twisted tube of E45 cream lying on the bathroom shelf. "Oh no, of course not."
MS, her: "Anything else?" she enquires.
MS, him: "Well, I had a sore throat."
MS her: "That's good - haha, not really of course for you, but . . . as long as you didn't take any medication."
CU, him, slightly worried, sniffs: "What, other than the Strepsils, because it hurt?" Oops. CU to her disappointed, and faintly disgusted look. She writes in her notes.
MS, her: "No coffee, of course?"
Camera pans back to show him sitting in office surrounded by jars and paraphernalia: "Oh no . . ." he lies, shaking his head. [Flashback] Memories of sitting in a NYC diner waiting for breakfast. He passes on the fourth cup of coffee.
Office, present. MS, her, smiling: "Well, you're doing really well. Try not to drink coffee or take anything that antidotes the treatment."
MS, him smiling resignedly: "Of course - see you next month". Antidotes?
LS: He leaves. CU: She raises her eyes to heaven. [Music: Northern Lights by Michael Chapman gradually gets louder].
Cut to: Shot of his back, walking down corridor, hands in pockets; his footsteps echo through the wooden panelled setting.
. . . do you remember, do you remember, the night it rained?
We were trying, only trying to get away . . .