A GIRL (14, long dark hair tangled by wind, simple white dress stained at the hem) sits at the ABSOLUTE EDGE of the roof. Her bare feet DANGLE over a hundred-foot drop. She swings her legs lazily, rhythmically.
She stares at the sky—still that pre-dawn orange.
Then: FOOTSTEPS. Echoing from within. Climbing stone stairs.
FEET in worn leather boots climb uneven steps. Each footfall deliberate, tired.
The boot catches on a RUSTED IRON REBAR jutting from a crumbled step.
Metal SCRAPING leather. A sharp intake of breath.
The Girl doesn't turn. Continues swinging her legs.
A hand slender, masculine, nicotine stained fingers grabs the rebar for balance.
The hand SLIPS. Fingernails SCRAPE against jagged metal.
The SOUND of nail separating from nail bed. Wet. Crunching.
MAN:
(sharp, nasal)
Tch
Then: He brings the thumb to his mouth. CHEWS the broken nail. Spits a fragment.
The MAN (early 30s, gaunt, unshaven, dark circles under dead eyes) emerges from the stairwell. His face is average forgettable except for those unforgettable hollow eyes.
He wears a faded military-style coat, too heavy for the weather.
He sees the Girl. She doesn't acknowledge him. Keeps staring at the sky.
He shrugs. Walks to the OPPOSITE EDGE of the roof fifteen feet away. Sits. Legs also dangling over emptiness.
From his coat: a CIGARETTE and a match. He strikes it and lights up the cigarette.
Exhale.
Smoke drifts toward her. She doesn't react.
MAN:
(not looking at her)
Want one?
GIRL:
(soft, curious)
What is it?
He laughs. Genuine surprise.
MAN:
Right.
Right, you wouldn't know.
He smokes in silence. She swings her legs. The sun finally breaks the horizon with golden light spilling across them.
MAN (CONT'D):
(still not looking)
What are you doing up here?
GIRL:
Waiting.
MAN:
For what?
GIRL:
The stars to come back.
He turns. Really looks at her for the first time. She turns too. Her face—porcelain, too pale, dark circles mirroring his own. But her eyes are different. Curious. Childlike in a way that hurts to look at.
MAN:
They'll be back tonight. They always come back.
GIRL:
But where do they go?
MAN:
(considers, takes a drag)
Nowhere. We're the ones who move. The world spins, we face away, and they hide behind the blue.
GIRL:
(fascinated)
The world spins?
MAN:
Fast. Thousands of miles every hour. We're all just... holding on. Trying not to fly off.
She laughs. He almost smiles. Almost.
GIRL:
Who made them? The stars?
MAN:
People say gods. Big gods, small ones. They'd look up and see stories. Heroes. Monsters.
GIRL:
And now?
MAN:
Now we know better. They're just... fire. Burning since before anything had eyes to see them. Some of them are already dead. We're just watching the light they sent thousands of years ago, finally reaching us. Ghosts. That's all stars are. Beautiful, burning ghosts.
She absorbs this. Nods slowly.
GIRL:
I think I like that better. Ghosts trying to be seen. Traveling so far just to say we were here.
He looks at her. really looks. Something shifts in his hollow eyes. Recognition? Regret?
MAN:
(quietly)
What's your name?
GIRL:
I don't... I think I forgot. Do you have one?
MAN:
(bitter smile)
I had several. None of them stuck. You can pick one for me if you want.
GIRL:
(studying him)
...Ash. Like what's left after the fire.
MAN:
(Ash)
Ash.
(tastes it)
It fits.
ASH:
What are you doing up here?
GIRL: waiting. You?
(He laughs—real this time, but broken.)
ASH:
Waiting too. For the courage to finish something I started a long time ago.
GIRL:
(gentle)
It takes courage to wait. My mother used to say that. The waiting is the hardest part.
ASH:
Your mother?
GIRL:
(distant)
She's gone now. Everyone's gone. It's just Left with... this. The edge. The sky. The waiting.
(Silence. Ash finishes his cigarette. Flicks it—it arcs down, down, down. They both watch it fall.)
ASH:
(softly)
I'm sorry. About your mother.
GIRL:
(shrugs, smiles—sad, beautiful)
I'm sorry about your fire.
They share a look. Two broken things recognizing each other.
ASH:
The stars tonight. They'll be bright. New moon.
GIRL:
Will you watch them with me?
ASH:
(something catching in his throat)
I... I can't. I have somewhere to be.
GIRL:
(standing, brushing dust from her dress)
That's alright. You already helped.
ASH:
I did?
GIRL:
(tears welling—she doesn't wipe them)
I came up here to stop waiting. To stop everything. But...
(she looks at the sky, the vast blue)
The ghosts traveled so far. It seems wrong not to see them one more time.
She turns to leave. Steps toward the stairwell.
ASH:
(voice strange—tight)
Wait.
She stops. Looks back.
ASH (CONT'D):
(standing, approaching)
At least try the cigarette. Before you go. One experience. For the ghosts.
She hesitates. Studies his face—searching for danger, finding only that same hollow sadness. The conversation has woven a thread between them. Trust, fragile and inexplicable.
GIRL:
(small smile)
Alright. For the ghosts.
She steps closer. Close enough to smell the tobacco and dust on him. He extends his hand—the cigarette pinched between two fingers.
It SLIPS.
(The soft sound of paper and tobacco falling on stone.)
Oh—
She bends to retrieve it. Her hair falls forward, obscuring her face.
ASH'S FACE: Empties. The hollow eyes go void. No sadness. No anything.
His hand rises.
(Wind flows)
VISUAL: He PUSHES her.
Not hard a gentle shove, almost loving. Enough.
GIRL'S FACE: (as she falls) fear. Surprise. Then understanding. Then, impossibly, all mixed up in one facial expression. Gratitude?
(She screams a few minutes before IMPACT.)
:Ground level. Her body hits the ancient stone courtyard.
: The WET CRUNCH of compound fractures. Bones snapping like dry branches. But
She's ALIVE.
: Her head lolls. Eyes blink. Blood bubbles from her lips. One arm bends wrong three places. Legs shattered, white bone visible. She tries to breathe, chest hitching in wrong shapes.
ASH (O.S.):
Roof :He stands at the edge, looking down. No expression.
He bends. Picks up the fallen cigarette. Brushes it off. Places it between his lips.
Strokes a match. Lights it.
(Inhale. Exhale.)
He sits on the edge. Swings his legs like she did. Smokes. Enjoys it.
Then he ROLLS FORWARD.
Not a jump. A deliberate, controlled FALL. Arms spread. Like a diver.
(Wind rushing. Then IMPACT.)
: He lands BESIDE HER.
: Skull hitting pavement.
His Blood SPRAYS across her face. His body twitches nerves firing randomly. Then stillness.
: His head—skull partially caved, gray matter visible—rests inches from her shattered hand. Eyes open. Dead.
GIRL: Still breathing. Shallow. Watching him with those curious, dying eyes.
(Footsteps. Running.)
: A PASSERBY (20s, farmer's clothes) rounds the corner. Sees the tableau. Blood pooling, spreading, reaching his shoes.
PASSERBY:
(voice cracking, rising to scream)
Oh gods—oh no—oh gods—
He runs. Screaming fading into distance.
Her broken but breathing. Him—obliterated. Blood merging. Dawn light turning it black.
Wind. Silence.
TWO MINUTES.
VISUAL: Her breathing stops. Final exhale. She's gone.
(A FEW MINUTES LATER)
ASH'S HAND: Twitches.
His face. The caved skull. The exposed brain matter PULSING wrong, too fast.
HIS EYES:
WIDE OPEN.
The pupils dilate, constrict.