Transcript
A (0:00)
Table read Rooms of Experience that was now let's do it with a little room. Pretend like you're excited that you're here on Saturday.
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Here we go.
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One, two, three. Table read Rooms of Experience. Thank you. Rooms of Experience By Stephanie Summers FADE IN EXTERIOR children's HOSPITAL DAY Flashback eight years prior People stride in and out through the automatic doors of the brightly colored building on a sunny spring day. Graceful willows line the walk. Dana, 30, attractive, long hair tied back in a loose, messy braid, dressed simply in jeans and a T shirt, walks a few feet out of the doors, stops mid step, her face tight with stress. People stream past her, around her. A nurse pushes a wheelchair with a woman and her newborn towards a car waiting at the curb. A man beams alongside. As they pass Dana, a tiny pink and blue hat falls on the ground in front of her. Her gaze lands on the hat. She breathes heavy. Something weighs on her, then walks faster toward the parking lot, the hat left abandoned on the cement. EXTERIOR PARKING LOT DAY Dana reaches her car, grabs the door handle. A sob almost escapes her lips, but she fights it back, wrenches the door open, gets in the driver's seat. Fade 2 Interior Dana's car moving. Present day Dana, impeccably dressed, expertly made up, hair in a tight bun, drives down a crowded city street. Wiper blades thump away rain from her windshield. Turns into a parking garage, deftly parks in her spot, exits the car. A chirp of the alarm. Her heels click on the cement, her action smooth and controlled. INTERIOR Office of the District Attorney DAY Dana enters from the street, drops a wet umbrella and a stand by the door, heads down the hall. INTERIOR Dana's office DAY Dana opens the door, which reads DANA Jeffries, Assistant District Attorney, Homicide. Hangs her purse on a coat rack in the corner, takes a seat at her desk, grabs mail from her inbox, sifts through the mail, gets to a baby blue envelope, stops, stares at it, runs her finger over the handwriting on the front, contemplates the letter opener on her desk. Her desk phone rings, startles her. She opens a bottom desk drawer, throws the envelope on top of several other envelopes in the same color with the same handwriting, reaches for the phone. Exterior Ada's backyard night Ada, elderly, close to 90, but trim and well put together, stands on the lawn in the dark, illuminated by a small shaft of light from a bulb above the sliding Gl door to the house. She holds a yellow balloon gently to her chest. There is the rumble of thunder in the distance. She closes her eyes and opens her arms, lets the Balloon float up into the night sky. Opens her eyes and looks up, watches the balloon disappear, then turns and goes inside. Drops of rain fall on the cement exterior residential street. Night Drops of rain beat against the asphalt, reflect the streetlights. The click of a phone being answered. 911 operator where is your emergency? Silence.
