The Time We Had (Film Class Script, Final Draft)

Posted: December 16, 2008 in Script, Uncategorized

FADE IN:
INT. BEDROOM
COLE lies in his bed, stares at the ceiling fan as it slowly revolves. He is a young man in his twenties, with short brown hair, skinny, pale, depressed, a drained figure.
He rubs his forehead and looks over to the phone, which sits by a bedside table.
He then looks at his watch: 1:00 AM. He sits up on the bed and looks around his room.
The floor is covered with discarded clothes, pizza boxes and Chinese take-out boxes and burrito wrappers are scattered around on the couch and a table and on top of the television. An old acoustic guitar is propped up against the wall, looking as dingy as the room it’s in.
The walls are plastered almost religiously with posters of classic rockers; nothing post 1980, bands like Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones.
Cole rubs his eyes and stands up, kicking the clothes and takeout detritus out of his way as he heads to the door.
He grabs a set of keys hanging from a nail that’s been hammered into the back of his door.
INT. HALLWAY
Cole comes out of his single-room apartment and locks the door behind him. He shoves the keys into his pocket and trudges along the hallway. There is graffiti all along the walls and a generally dismal air about its character.
Cole spies a sleeping hobo in the lobby, a blanket cast askew near him. Cole steps over the man and leaves the building.
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Cole drives through city streets, his car looks like it might fall apart at any moment, rattling and creaking loudly as he drives on.
COLE (V.O.)
I remember the first time I met her. It was at my first job out of college.
FLASHBACK:
EXT. STREET CORNER – DAY
Cole sits on the sidewalk, his guitar on his lap. He plays a Dylan song, something that won’t put a strain on his meager singing talent.
COLE
(singing)
…and wished, that he’d gone straight, and watched out, for a simple twist of fate…
Several people toss money into the open guitar case in front of him, but the majority of them pass him by.
A particularly pretty girl walks by him, giving him the slightest smile but no money. This is SARAH. He abruptly stops playing and stares after her. He calls after her but only Cole’s voiceover is heard.
COLE (V.O.) (CONT’D)
I asked her if she didn’t like my music. She laughed and said she did. Then I asked her if she was Jewish.
She tosses her head back and laughs, shaking her head no. Cole smiles at her.
She is relatively tall, perhaps slightly shorter than Cole, with brown hair and a bright smile. Her eyes are a vivid, almost turquoise blue, and she moves with a fluid ease usually reserved for models on a runway.
COLE (V.O.) (CONT’D)
We ended up going for coffee. My treat.
INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY
Cole and Sarah sit in the coffee shop; Cole’s guitar is in its case, leaning against the wall. They laugh over something, both drinking coffee. A waitress comes over with their bill, and Cole leans over to his guitar, cracking open the case and drawing out some money, handing it to the waitress. He smiles back at Sarah.
She opens her mouth tentatively, as if she’s about to say something.
COLE (V.O.)
Her name was Sarah.
END FLASHBACK
INT. CONVENIENCE STORE – NIGHT
CLERK
Four dollars and sixty-five cents, please.
Cole blinks, coming out of his memory. He rubs his forehead and reaches for his wallet.
The convenience store is a typical 7-11 knock off, the CLERK a creepy, unhealthy-looking guy, the only kind that would be working at a gas station this late.
Cole takes out some money and hands it to the clerk. He gathers up the two energy drinks he’s bought and starts to leave. The clerk stops him.
CLERK (CONT’D)
You don’t want change?
Cole turns back.
COLE
No, thanks.
INT. CAR – NIGHT
Cole drives again. He drinks the first of his energy drinks and rubs his eyes, trying to stay awake in any way he can.
It’s about 3:30 in the morning by now. He turns on the radio and finishes his drink, tossing the empty can in the back. On the radio is quiet jazz, Miles Davis or John Coltrane.
He rubs his eyes again and sighs.
FLASHBACK:
INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY
Cole and Sarah sit in the coffee shop again. Sarah talks animatedly and Cole listens intently. Miles Davis plays in the background.
COLE (V.O.)
She loved cats, Miles Davis, Robert Rodriguez movies, Barbara Kingsolver books…
Sarah looks demurely at the table, takes a bite from a bagel.
SARAH
I keep blabbing on, I’m sorry.
COLE
No, no, it’s good to get to know you. Tell me more.
Cole leans forward and touches her hand.
END FLASHBACK
INT. CAR – DAWN
The smallest tear forms in Cole’s eye, and he quickly brushes it away. He blinks and focuses on the road.
The clock reads 6:15. Cole’s finger stabs at the radio and switches it off.
EXT. CAR – DAWN
Daylight is starting to illuminate the road, the faint rays chasing the darkness away. The road is empty and long, a desolate stretch of highway with only dawn and Cole’s lonely headlights pulsing down the strip with dogged determination.
INT. CAR – LATER
Cole’s phone beeps. He fumbles around in his pocket and brings it out. He opens it and sees a text message from someone named Kim. It reads, “are you coming to work today?” Cole shuts the phone and shoves it back into his pocket. He looks at the clock.
It’s 7:00. Sun is coming through the window, a bleak, almost wintery light that only serves to irritate rather than give warmth. Cole squints and takes out a pair of sunglasses, slipping them on.
EXT. PORCH
Cole’s car is parked haphazardly out in front of a house.
Cole himself sits in the car, staring over at the house. He turns to stare out of the windshield, lost in his thoughts. Through the window, something very faint and out-of-focus can be seen walking through the door of the house and towards the car. Cole’s eyes close out of sheer exhaustion.
COLE
I didn’t really know why I was at Sarah’s house; I just was. I had no idea what to say to her, no idea of what to do–
A tap comes from the window; the thing coming from the house comes into focus as a MAN.
Cole blinks with surprise at the sight of him, then quickly rolls the window down.
A moment of silence passes between them before the man speaks.
MAN
Can I help you?

Cole looks confused, concerned.
COLE
Who are you? What are you doing here?
MAN
(with a small laugh)
I live here. What are you doing here?
COLE
This…this is Sarah’s house.
MAN
Well, I live with Sarah.
A multitude of emotions cross Cole’s face- shock, anger, despair, an emptiness that spreads to slacken his body. He looks up at the man, mouth hanging slightly open. He can’t speak.
Without looking at the man, he starts the car. He rolls away slowly.
Sarah’s boyfriend watches him go. He looks like he’s going to say something, perhaps shout after Cole, but he doesn’t. He turns and walks into the house.
INT. CAR – DAY
Cole looks like a zombie as he stares straight ahead at the freeway, just barely going through the motions of driving, not really concentrating, his mind in a daze. As he drives listlessly, his voice can be heard, low and emotionless.
The clock reads 9:30.
COLE (V.O.)
And just like that, it was over. Everything Sarah and I had been through, every experience we shared…it felt completely worthless now. My memories were a heap of junk on the side of the road that no one wanted.
Cole’s phone buzzes, and he glances at it to see a new text message from Kim. It reads “where are you?” He stares at it for a moment before closing it again and turning his attention to the road.
EXT. OUTSIDE COLE’S APARTMENT – AFTERNOON
Cole slumps into his apartment, an emotionless mask drawn across his face. The bum is now propped up just inside the doorway.
He holds his hand out vaguely for some change. Cole digs into his pocket and pulls out some wrinkled bills, dropping them into the bum’s hand.
BUM
Bless you, man.
INT. BEDROOM – AFTERNOON
Cole steps wearily into his room and sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.
The clock reads 1:00. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It comes out in a deep whoosh of air, and he lays back against his bed.
His phone buzzes again. It’s another text message from Kim. It says “Call me.” After a moment, Cole presses a button on his phone and presses it to his ear, listening to the phone ring.
COLE
Hey, Kim.
INT. COFFEE SHOP – A FEW WEEKS LATER
The coffee shop is relatively empty, as it’s still fairly early in the morning; maybe they’ve just opened. A pretty girl in her early twenties with a dark barista’s apron over a blue t-shirt is wiping down the tables with a rag. This is KIM. She is fairly short, with medium length dark hair (maybe closer to black than brown) and dark hazel eyes.
A bell tinkles lightly at the front as the door opens: it’s Cole. Kim looks up and smiles broadly, as if seeing him has made her day better. Cole looks equally glad to see her.
KIM
Hey, Cole.
COLE
Hey.
Cole walks over to the counter and grabs another rag. He starts to wipe tables down with Kim, and she glances over at him.
KIM
How are you doing?
Cole stops wiping down the table and stares straight ahead. He looks healthier, happy, much better than he used to be; perhaps he’s given up the junk food. He smiles and nods.
COLE
I’m actually really good.
He laughs a little, shaking his head. He looks at her as if to say that she’s the cause of his happiness.
COLE (CONT’D)
I can’t believe I got so worked up over someone like Sarah…
KIM
She’s an idiot anyway.
Kim saunters back to the counter and tosses her rag behind it.
Cole looks surprised at what she’s said, and absentmindedly starts to wipe down a counter.
He steals a glance at Kim, who’s watching him.
COLE
Do you mean that?
KIM
Yeah.
She turns shyly away to start making coffee.
After a moment, Cole comes around the bar. “Raindrops” by Regina Spektor starts to play, and Cole walks up to Kim. She looks up at him and gives him a bright, quizzical look.
KIM (CONT’D)
What?
Cole puts his hand over hers.
FADE OUT.

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Comments
  1. David says:

    Hey there:
    My name is David from Literary Rags. You had posted a comment on my blog quite a while ago (blog is down, for now). But my question is this: would you be interested in co-writing a script I’ve been working on — it’s from a short story I wrote? If you are interested I can send you the story and the little bit I’ve done as a script. Who knows, maybe we can get someone to turn it into a short film:)
    Let me know.
    Email me through my website: http://www.literaryrags.com
    David

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