EXT. BRIGHTON BEACH – DAY
A rocky beach. Pebbles packed tightly together. No sand.
The SOUND of footsteps crushing stones — sharp, repetitive.
A GIRL walks ahead, crouching occasionally to pick up colorful stones.
A BOY follows behind her, holding a canvas tote bag.
The bag is already heavy — bottles of water, sandwiches, several stones
inside. The fabric bulges awkwardly.
GIRL
This one’s pretty. Hold it for me.
She places a colorful stone into his hand without looking up.
The BOY slips it into the bag. The stones CLACK against each other.
GIRL (CONT’D)
You know, you’re different from other guys.
She continues picking stones. Doesn’t look at him.
The BOY stands stiffly, gripping the tote bag.
BOY
How did you meet him?
GIRL
He was my friend’s roommate.
We had dinner together once.
He had a girlfriend.
She finally looks up at him. A brief eye contact. Then back down.
Waves CRASH against the shore.
GIRL (CONT’D)
One night we went drinking.
He got drunk. I helped him.
He kept holding my hand.
Saying strange things.
A beat.
GIRL (CONT’D)
In the taxi he suddenly kissed me.
I pushed him away.
No visible emotion in her voice.
The BOY stares at the waves. Water rushes up, touches her ankles,
retreats.
Only the SOUND OF THE SEA now.
BOY
Don’t tell this to other people next time.
He stands behind her. Quietly opens the tote bag.
Takes out the stones.
He drops them onto the pebbles behind him.
The stones disappear among thousands of others.
They stand for a moment.
GIRL
Let’s go. It’s getting cold.
There’s a seafood shop over there.
They walk side by side along the shoreline.
One dressed in black. One in white.
After a few steps —
GIRL
Where are my stones?
The BOY checks the bag theatrically.
BOY
Oh… I think I left them.
They were too heavy. Sorry.
She rolls her eyes.
GIRL
It’s fine.
I kept some in my pocket.
She pulls out several small red stones.
GIRL (CONT’D)
Do you want one?