a person sits in the back corner of a room, wearing a cap. the frame is angled in such a way where it's hard to make out whether it's a man or a woman. the white tee they wear doesn't give any clues either.
the camera pans to a first person perspective — as if someone was peering over their shoulder — and points down at an 8.5 x 11 portrait outline drawn directly on the table out of marker. a marker rests to the right of it.
it’s silent except for the sounds of cars humming by, the occasional small talk of pedestrians going about their day. footsteps, the hums of a machine, the chirp of a bird — it’s a mini John Cage 4’33” symphony. just when the long pause gives the viewer the impression they're hesitating because they don’t understand what's going on, the person finally picks up the marker and draws two circles, one inside the other.
a single clap echoes.
//
the scene changes to a bird’s eye perspective of a table set for two. a wrapped napkin of the utensils on one side, an 8.5 x 11 menu on the left with a list of specials. a guy sits on the other side, menu already in hand and the napkin under his lap. he wears a white tee and has a gold chain around his neck. probably in his mid twenties and could be described as a pretty boy. the viewer still can’t make out the other person, who’s now wearing a comically large sun hat. it’s in the middle of the afternoon, with people all around in sun dresses, tank tops and muscle tees. the heat is sweltering.
the camera jumps to first person perspective, this time as if the viewer is sitting at the table across the guy who’s perusing the menu.
"what are you thinking of getting?" he finally asks. his eyes look from the person’s face down to their body ever so slightly. he gives a light-hearted laugh.
"the burger looks pretty good, think I might get that with some fries. I’m starvingggg."
there’s other conversations at the neighboring tables. two girls chatting with fancy drinks. one of girls keeps stealing a glance at their table and proceeds to say something to her friend.
the camera focuses back on the guy sitting across from them.
"so I saw your post and obviously I’m confused but also intrigued, otherwise I wouldn’t be here," he continues. "you want me to play you?" he looks around their face.
"but we don’t look like each other at all besides being roughly the same height. we don’t even sound remotely similar. like…how is this even going to work?"
the waitress enters the frame from the left side and stands next to their table. she looks at the guy and the other person in the big hat.
"have you decided what to order?" she says as she flips her hair back, clearly annoyed.
"yeah, I’ll have the burger and fries." he says. the waitress smiles sweetly at the guy.
"and you?"
the person in the big hat shows the menu towards the waitress and points to an item. she looks at them and then at the guy before writing it down, trying to hide a smirk.
"I’ll be back in a minute with some bread and butter to start." she says before taking their menus and walking away.
"what did you order?" he asks.
//
the perspective shifts to the viewfinder of a first person shooter game, with a target on a soldier. the screen zooms back out to the inside of a dilapidated building with one of the walls broken down by force. the camera zooms out even further to the living room with a kid playing video games and a mom with disheveled hair holding a cup of coffee. she’s still in her cheetah print robe with a cigarette burn mark at the end on one side. she’s crying as she rests a hand on one side of her cheek, tears of joy. the guy from the previous scene is standing next to her in the same outfit as before, holding a wailing baby wrapped comfortably in a blanket with a pacifier around its neck.
"thank you so much for finding her," she says in between sniffs. the guy carefully hands the baby back to the mom, who rocks it gently. she kisses her child’s forehead.
"how can I repay you?" she asks. the sound of a newscaster reporting how many women and children are starving from the way in another part of the world plays in the background. you can hear murmurs of their conversation but it’s drowned by the news. the mom puts her child back in its crib and embraces him. he opens the screen door and exits, the door sliding shut. the mom looks at her kid playing video games.
"c’mon, it’s time to do your homework. you’ve been playing long enough." she says, grabbing his hand as they walk up the stairs. a few steps up the kid lets go and starts sprinting up.
"you better be studying when I come up there." she shouts after him.
she pauses for a moment at the stairs and looks at the crib. she lets out a sigh of relief.
//
the scene immediately switches to the inside of a car, the exhaust of a engine droning. the camera pans to the front view mirror showing just eyes. the person is clearing lost in thought. their eyes to the left and the car screeches to a halt. the camera pans out to the back of the car, which slowly comes to a stop in a single file behind a few others in front of a red light. a homeless man wrapped from the head down holds a cardboard sign. he looks up and down the row of cars until his eyes lock with the car at the very end. he starts mumbling to himself what seems to be the same thing over and over, looking vacantly into the distance. the light turns green. some cars continue straight while others turn. one car slows down in front of the green light. a hand sticks out and hands a five dollar bill to the homeless guy. he's looking to his right as he takes it and mumbles again.
"thanks," he says.
//
it’s night and now the viewer is in front of a door, turning a key into the lock. the door clicks open into a small hallway with a tall shoe rack to the right, just in front of the kitchen. the camera meanders through the living room to another closed door. a sliver of moonlight peers through the open sliding door on the other side. a shadowed figure opens the door and enters their bedroom, unclipping their necklace. they put it on a little dish on the table on the right and swings around to grab the glasses case on the other side of the table. then sits at the edge of the bed, body hunched wearily.
they open the case and take out its rounded frame. the camera pans to the side view of the person. there’s just enough lighting to make out the faint outline of a rectangular mirror, the handles of the faucet, a soap dispenser with a toothbrush and toothpaste on one side, a few other bottles and jars on the other. they finally take out the glasses, carefully unfolding and cleaning the rounded lens with the end of their shirt. they put it on and walk to the bathroom, the figure approaching facing the mirror.
just as the light switch flips on, the scene ends.