2.02
Hannah steps out of the bathroom into the soft clatter and motion of a lived-in café of scuffed floors and morning chatter. She takes it in, then heads to a corner table: two chairs, low light, away from the noise.
A man fiddles with his bag, then turns to face her. It’s JOSH.
You were telling me about your emergency pack of compliments you give to strangers.
When you can tell they're not having a nice day, it's good to have some nice things to say.
Like what?
Well, the trick is to be specific enough so they don't suspect you've thought of it beforehand. Something like... "I bet you give great directions."
Josh laughs.
I'd fall for it. What's my compliment?
Why, are you having a bad day?
Not anymore.
Hannah smiles, hopeful.
I bet you could make even the most cynical person believe in a happy ending.
Josh considers it.
Wow. Seems awfully personal.
Well, it isn't.
Part of the emergency pack.
That's right. Thought of it years ago.
Too bad. I'd almost fall for it. Does it work a lot?
Every time.
What a great way to talk to strangers.
A beat.
How do you do it?
Do what?
You flirt like it's an accident.
I don't.
You do.
Why do you talk like that?
Like what?
Like you know me.
Maybe I do.
Oh yeah? What are you, a telepath?
A time traveller.
Josh sits back, raising an eyebrow. He decides to play along.
Oh? And what makes me so lucky to deserve a visit?
We're in love. Or we used to be. Or maybe we will be, I don't know.
It's not been going well?
Do you remember me?
Can't say I do.
Well, there's your answer.
So we've had this conversation before?
Oh yeah. Many times.
Okay... what am I about to say?
I don't know. The conversation's different every time. Nothing I try seems to work.
That's awfully convenient.
But I know your name is Josh Faulkner. You're 29, you came here when you were 23. Your mom's Alicia, your dad's David.
I know you dog-ear the pages of your books and it drives me insane.
As the truth of her comments hit Josh, his expression begins to shift.
I know you're secretly a good singer. I know you have a scar on your leg and how you got it. That you always try to be a good son and a good boyfriend. And I know I miss you. And I'm going to keep trying, okay? I will. We'll be okay. This will all be okay. I promise.
Josh stares at her, confused, rattled. Deciding if this is a joke, a breakdown, or something worse.
Hannah stands. Emotion threatens, but she keeps it in check.
I'm sorry.
She walks away, crossing the café floor. Midway to the bar, she stops. Closes her eyes. THE HUM builds.