3.16
On a hand, gently pulling a block. Hannah and Will are sitting in her apartment close together at a table playing Jenga.
I've never understood the appeal of this game.
It's all about steady hands and patience.
Will reaches in, his off-hand instinctively hovers to steady the stack; Hannah lightly taps his wrist back without looking away from the tower.
One hand.
They continue playing.
You and Julia play this a lot?
No. She's a klutz.
But you have the set.
I bought this before we met. So it's been collecting dust until you came along.
That's very forward of you.
Not like that. Her phone didn't work. So I paid. She was just coming back from her sister's funeral. Anyway, we sat, had a drink, and the rest is history.
That's a sweet story. Also sad.
Speaking of which... you never talk about Maya.
I guess the memory's still too painful.
You were together for years.
Yeah.
That's a lot of memories that aren't painful.
Will pulls the wrong block and the tower crashes. He winces.
Will.
He looks at her.
Can I say something?
Please.
I never lost someone the way you have, but it seems to me you really loved her, right? You don't have to talk about her death, but you can talk about her life. Wouldn't she want that?
I just keep going back to the same moment.
I don't know how.
Hey.
(she places her hand on his)
You are an amazing person. You're kind, you're smart, you're compassionate to a fault. And you're an easy person to love.
Will absorbs this, tries to recover.
Is that from your bag of compliments?
No. This one's from the heart.
On Will. He makes a decision.