Excess Baggage Page #17

EMILY:

I'm sorry, Will.

WILL:

You don't know what sorry means. And you probablynever will.

He stalks to the Porsche, drags the door open, leaving.

EMILY:

I know what sorry means. I know damn well what sorrymeans, Will Pogue.

She throws her cigarette away, hugs herself, staring offinto the growing dusk. . .

EMILY (CONT'D)

Sh*t.

She fumbles a plane ticket out of her purse and throws iton the ground.

EMILY (CONT'D)

I bought two tickets to Tahiti, Will Pogue. Andyou can either be on that plane, or you can sit here staring atthem for the rest of your life. Frankly, I don't give a damn whichyou choose. But I do know what sorry means.

She turns and crunches away across gravel, headed for thedistant terminal lights.

It's starting to rain, big wet drops out of the sky, fallingdown.

WILL:

Are they first class tickets?

Emily slaps an angry tear, or maybe it's a raindrop, away.

EMILY:

What?

WILL:

I said, are they first class tickets?

EMILY:

What do you think?

Will lifts the ticket, wipes a raindrop off it, which isquickly replaced by another, and another.

WILL:

Round trip?

Emily crosses her arms and shoots him a "don't push yourluck" type glare.

He opens the passenger door.

She's thinking about it? He rolls his eyes.

She crunches back, climbs in.

He climbs in, starts the car.

And the Porsche pulls away, crunching over gravel, turningonto tarmac, as a plane crosses over our heads and we:

FADE OUT:

THE END:

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