SEQUENCE: DETACHMENT
INT. HOUSE – SERIES OF STILL FRAMES – DAWN
CLOSE-UP – COFFEE MUG
Her lipstick faintly stains the rim of mug. Steam long gone.
Next to it — her notebook, open, pen resting.
Like she meant to return.
TOK.
CLOSE-UP – CHAIR BACK
Her scarf, draped carelessly.
A trace of perfume still lingers.
TIK.
CLOSE-UP – HER DESK
Books stacked, one half-read. Photo album. Notes and pictures around.
A photo camera rests beside her jewelry tray.
A framed picture of them. Smiling. Alive.
TIK.
CLOSE-UP – ENTRYWAY FLOOR
Her shoes — kicked off casually, slightly askew.
His shoes sit nearby, side by side.
TIK.
CLOSE-UP – BATHROOM SHELF
Her perfume. A comb. Lipstick. Moisturizer.
All untouched.
His razor. Their toothbrushes. Together.
TIK.
INT. KITCHEN – WIDE PROFILE SHOT – EARLY MORNING
The hum of the refrigerator.
The ticking of a clock.
WILLIAM stands in the kitchen, still in yesterday’s clothes.
His eyes are hollow.
He stares out the window — blank.
Still.
The light outside is soft and grey, no sun. Just overcast quiet.
His posture is rigid — as if movement would make it real.
The clock ticks behind him.
TIK. TOK.
INT. LIVING ROOM – MIDDAY
WILLIAM sits on the couch.
The light outside is brighter now, but the curtains are drawn.
His eyes are fixed on the screen.
A cooking show. Someone laughing. Whipping eggs.
But he’s not watching.
CLOSE-UP – WILLIAM’S FACE
Unblinking. Frozen in place.
The record player is on… but finished.
“Unchained Melody” record spinning.
The needle clicks at the end.
Again. And again.
Click… click… click… He doesn’t move.
INT. BEDROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT
WILLIAM sits at the edge of the bed, staring down at the window.
The light is off. Only the faint hallway light spills in, touching her side.
Her side is untouched —
It’s still messy. Lived-in.
The typewriter rests on the floor nearby.
A book still open.
A blanket half-folded, half-fallen.
The shape of her still there.
He lies down — not under the covers — just on top, on his side only.
Like he doesn’t dare disturb hers.
His arm reaches slightly… fingers grazing the space where she last was.
He pulls them back.
He turns away from her pillow.
The camera holds.
Still. Silent. Detached.
