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Final Scene. Cut, Print… That Was, Unfortunately, a Wrap.

EXT. CHICAGO STREET – NIGHT

The MAN walks up to the cab.  The back door is open and a PASSENGER sits inside. The Man leans in and talks to the Passenger.

MAN

               I’d like to tell you I’ll stay in touch, but… hell, I haven’t stayed in touch at all over the past years.

 

PASSENGER

               Don’t worry about it.

The Man reaches out to shake hands. He’s trying to come across with a kind of distant warmth common to men who don’t express any real feelings, but his smile only makes him look sadder.

MAN

               It’s been great to see you bro’.

The Passenger accepts the Man’s handshake and pulls it in tight, bringing both men together. The Passenger wraps his other arm around the Man, embracing him in a hug.

PASSENGER

               You too.

 

MAN

(still hugging)

               I had a great time this weekend.  I really miss talking to you… And getting to see everyone again, like old times? You were always the one; you always brought everyone together.

The Man begins pulling back from the hug. They drop the handshake, but the Man remains there; leaning into the back of the cab. They are close in proximity. The Passenger is relaxed… accepting, but the Man feels a little awkward. He holds on to the front seat of the cab to steady himself. His grip tightens, willing himself to hold the position. To remain close.

PASSENGER

(in a tired, weak voice)

               Yeah?

 

MAN

               Yeah.

(looking directly into the Passenger’s eyes)

MAN (CON’T)

               You know, if there’s anything I can do… Anything you need…

 

PASSENGER

(nodding gently)

               I know.

The Man lets go his grip on the front seat and begins to straighten up out of the cab. The headlight of a passing car reflects wetness in his eyes.

MAN

               Take care of yourself brother

 

PASSENGER

               You too…

It’s dark and it’s snowing and the wind whips at the Man’s jacket collar. He turns and walks five or six steps back to the sidewalk. His face looks like it might have been five or six miles. The snow muffles everything and it is quiet. The Man turns and looks back into the cab; through the front windshield. He sees only a silhouette now. He raises his arm up, bent at the elbow, hand about shoulder height. He waves just once, hand moving in a slight arc – away from the body. It’s a practiced wave, handed down by one generation of men to another. It’s meant to appear casual; a non-committal wave that conveys absolute commitment. The cab quietly pulls away.

FADE TO BLACK

———-
Good-Bye little brother. You rest easy now… you’ve fought long enough.

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