A Ghost Returns

EXT. YOUR HOUSE - EVENING

A dark late spring evening. The sound of crickets fills the air. It’s interrupted by a DOORBELL. You open the door to reveal CHARLOTTE, 25, standing in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers and giant puppy-dog eyes.

CHARLOTTE

Hi. Please don’t close the door. I’m sorry I went away. I guess I ghosted you, as the kids say. And that’s not cool. There was a lot going on that I wanted to just process on my own. I couldn’t quite figure out how to put what I was feeling into words. I just felt that there were bigger issues, you know? The whole world is on fire. I felt powerless. So instead of making something, I drowned it all in wine and popcorn and reruns of Parks & Rec and trying to figure out the “next step” in my career. It’s not much of an excuse. A lot of good things have come out of this trash heap of an election. A lot of good writing at least. I guess it’s also easy to feel small when there are so many voices out there, voices that are more articulate and knowledgeable and passionate. I lost some of that last bit along the way. Passion. Anyway, I know that for this thing to work, I need to open up more. Not be so afraid of the words. And I’m ready to do that. There are always things I’ll hide away just for me, and you can understand that. But I don’t want to run away from this. That’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me.

A beat. You consider this.

CHARLOTTE (cont.)

Can I come in? This vase is really heavy and I’m getting chewed up by mosquitoes out here. You should probably empty that kiddie pool. Standing water leads to West Nile Virus. You’ve seen those ads.