Scene 3Mature

INT. A SMALL BEDROOM - Same time, same day

Helen sits at a desk in a small bedroom in a small house, obviously cheap enough to be student-owned. Homework and books are piled up around her; they create a type of barrier from the light streaming through the window in front of the desk.

Helen awkwardly fidgets with some of the books as she talks on her cell phone. The conversation is apparently not of a favored topic--she grimaces in an obvious expression of distress.

HELEN: You know, I think I'm doing better. At least a bit.

She pauses, listening to the response on the other line.

HELEN: Oh, come o--

She stops speaking, cut off by the other speaker.

HELEN: Yes. (Another pause as she digs through the pile of papers.) Let me find it, just give me a second.

From a pile noticeably messier than the others, she pulls out a bottle of medicine. She examines it closely and counts the remaining pills.

HELEN: Seven. (She listens to the response.) Yeah, I'll go refill it later.

This time, Helen doesn't listen to the other speaker. She holds the phone away from her ear out of annoyance and rubs her temples, then brings it back to her ear.

HELEN: I've got a call. On the other line. (The person on the other line responds; you can barely hear someone say 'I love you.') Yeah, okay. Bye, Mom.

She puts the phone down, breathing a sigh of relief. But then, as the feeling of relief fades, she looks around for a few seconds as if wondering what to do. Then (as if she had been expecting this) her gaze wanders to the medicine bottle she left on her desk and lingers there; with a somewhat shaky hand, she opens the bottle and takes out a pill, presumably her daily dosage.

Before she can do anything, her phone rings yet again.

HELEN, quickly grabbing the phone and dropping her pill: Hello?

CUT: ROBERT is on the other line.
He sits in the meeting room from before, surrounded by the other men and women. Karen sits right behind him, leaning in, listening closely to the conversation.

ROBERT: Hello, is this Helen Thompson?

HELEN, her reply heard from the phone: Yes, it is.

ROBERT: Miss Thompson, we're interviewing locals on a suspect that lives nearby. It would be beneficial if you would visit the police station on Lark Street so we could ask a few questions.

HELEN: When?

ROBERT: Around six o'clock. Tonight.

There is a long pause.

HELEN: Yeah, I suppose I could stop by.

ROBERT: Alright. Thank you, Miss Thompson.

HELEN: Bye. A 'click' is heard as she hangs up.

Robert puts his own cell phone down now, looking around at his colleagues.

ROBERT: Simple.

KAREN, after another silence: So who's going to talk to her?

ROBERT: You are.

KAREN, a bit surprised: Me?

ROBERT: Yes.

KAREN: Why?

ROBERT: I think that Miss Thompson would prefer to talk to someone like her.

Karen opens her mouth as if to speak, but closes it again in fear of starting another debate.

KAREN, eventually: Alright. I'll get as much information as possible.

ROBERT: Oh, we know.

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Robert simply stands, packs up, and walks out of the room. The other workers follow him.

ROBERT, shouting behind him as he leaves: Report back to me tomorrow.

KAREN, distractedly: I will.

She sits, staring downwards for a few seconds before starting to pack up herself.

The End

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