EXT. CLIFFSIDE — NIGHT
A rail-thin woman is sitting at the edge of a cliff, her feet dangling, a little bored.
The moon’s full. There is hardly any wind, just little gusts desultorily lifting a few
strands of her dark hair from her neck, as she peers at the shadows below. A little
boy walks toward her. She doesn’t look up.
Did I hit you?
(slightly abashed, slightly pleased)
Did it hurt though?
It smarts a bit. Like a papercut.
Kid nods, twice, quick jerks. Looks a little unsure. Sits down, cross-legged, near Jo.
Lays darts to the side.
Are you mad? You didn’t used to get mad.
Tired of the game.
(looks up, stares him in the eye)
Why’d you mess with me?
(looks down at his darts)
I was just playing.
You’ve been practicing.
Yes. I hit better now.
I don’t want to play anymore.
So why are you still here?
I like the view. Don’t be a pest.
They sit in silence for a minute. The boy fiddles with his darts. Throws one to the side.
I can miss on purpose.
You really are a sweetheart.
What if I nick a lung?
(tousles his hair)
I’ll take my chances.
For a paper-cut?
So I don’t push you off this cliff.
That could be fun.
Brat. Be off with you.
(watches him scramble away)
And wear some pants!
“convo with cupid”