Date:         Sat, 30 May 1998 14:22:01 GMT
From: Robyn Harris <Robyn_Harris@POST.WESLEYAN-COLLEGE.EDU>
Organization: Wesleyan College
Subject:      Re: [WRITERS] INT: Goldman Pictures, Lights,
              Camera and which kind of action????

J. Hall,jhall@LEMOORENET.COM,Internet writes:
>        She leaned against me and a little bright line of fire lit up the sky,
>then vanished in the purple of the horizon.
>        Waltzes hell, I was hearing Edward Hermann conducting his own goddamn
>symphony inside.
>        I leaned over and began to sing softly into her ear.  "Gonna take..a
>sentimental journey..gonna set..my .."
>        I didn't make it past the first chorus.
>        "Shut up and kiss me," she said, and took my head fiercely in her
>hands.
>        "Yes, boss," I murmurred.  As her face disappeared, I heard Doris Day
>crooning quietly under the oncoming stars..



        "I don't want you to think this is something I always do," she 
whispered, her voice sounding a little bit like a child's.  The moon was fully 
risen and they were lying beneath the tree covered with various articles of 
previously discarded clothing.  "I don't."
        He stayed quite, still intoxicated with her, slipping off into sleep.
        "Jeff," she looked up at his face.
        "Hmmm?"
        "We can't stay here.  Cops do at least two passes per night."
        "And you say you don't normally do this."
        She sat up, "Not this, but I have been here before."
        She pulled her hair back and slipped on her dress.  She stood up.  "My 
husband and I used to come here, watch the sun set, lie beneath this tree, talk
philosophy and existentialism."
        Jeff stood, "Husband?"
        "His name was Charlie.  We were married for two years."
        "What happened?  Should I ask?"
        Reine walked over and buttoned his shirt for him, looking towards his 
face but her focus was somewhere far away, the past.  "I'd rather not talk about 
it."
        Feeling an overwhelming need to be tender and understanding, Jeff pulled 
her close and kissed her forehead.  "It's okay."
        "Thank you," her voice was barely above a whisper.
        They gathered their things in silence.  The only sounds were the 
crickets and the vague buzz of the city below.  Lareine carried the blanket to 
the trunk and opened it.  She placed the blanket inside.  "I didn't say that 
just then to distance myself from you.  Or to scare you.  I just...  Never 
mind."
        "Let's go home, okay?"  Jeff shut the trunk and walked her to the 
passenger door, opening it for her.
        "You can't go home."
        "What?"
        "It's dangerous.  We need to get another place.  Both of our homes are
probably being watched."
        He cursed under his breath.  "And where do you suggest we go?"
        "Vegas."
        "Bit by the gambling bug?"
        "No, they don't require a blood test and they will do it tonight."  She
closed the door and sat there, looking straight in front of her.
        He walked around and got in the driver's seat.  "We are doing what 
there?"
        "Getting married of course."
        "I don't get married."
        "Don't be silly.  We need to get married so we can get a place to live,"
 she looked at him, "We aren't _really_ getting married.  Nora Hampton and her
fiance are."
        He cranked the engine, "This isn't good."
        "You are such a naysayer.  Trust me, okay?"
        "Trust you?"
        "Just drive.  We'll get there before sunrise if we go now."
        He negotiated the road, naming all the reasons why this was a bad plan.
        "Jeff!  You are thinking out loud again."
        "I just have one question."
        "Shoot."
        "I'd prefer not to.  My question is, what in the hell is 
existentialism?"
        Reine laughed, "So you'll do it?"

to be continued....

**************************************************
Robyn Alyson
tHe OnLy DiFfErEnCe BeTwEeN FaNtAsY aNd ReAlItY iS pErCePtIoN