SCENE 10 EXT. CEMETERY - DAY ALICE stands in front of a tombstone. She puts flowers over it. ALICE (sobbing): i'm sorry. This is the last time I will put flowers on your grave for a long time. I wish you could come with me. But there's nothing left for me in Syria. If I'm not lucky we'll meet again very soon. If I'm lucky next month I'll be in Greece. Then to Germany, Britain or Spain. I don't know. Remember Adnan? We were the same age. Yesterday some men arrived and took him to jail. He might be dead by now. My cousin Fathi is on Spain. He says he'll help me get some money selling cheap stuff on the streets. Nizar is on Germany, he says it was nice until some guys burned the refugee where he was staying. Whatever happens, we'll meet agin.

Feedback 9 Alex (can I call you Alex) I see where you are going with this scene and I like it. I guess you meant "refugee camp" at the end of the monologue. Also, the ending needs a bit more work as you jump very quickly to the "Whatever happens" sentence. But this is me being picky. Nicely done.

Feedback 4 Hi there, Alejandro. :) What stands out most to me here is that I feel as though I could just as easily imagine Alice saying all this in a calm, composed tone. There doesn't seem to be anything inherent in the syntax that makes me think she MUST be sobbing here. I think if you were to add a quality of lugubriousness to her words, that would really bring more conviction to the scene.

Scene 3 INT. JEM’S BEDROOM - DAY A hospital bracelet is still fastened to JEM’S wrist as he unpacks a small duffel bag, stuffing clothes back into their drawers. ABEL stands nearby, watching with concern. ABEL Jem, I love you. We love you. Maybe we aren’t showing you well enough. Maybe we aren’t saying it right, or, or something. So just tell me. Please. Tell me how I can say “I love you, and I want you to stay” in a way that you’ll know I’m telling you the truth. JEM (Quickly unhinging) You’re not-... that isn’t... ABEL Whatever you need from me. I’ll do anything. JEM Please stop. My god. I can’t handle this. ABEL Honey, it’s gonna be okay. But you need to work with me on this. I can’t help you if you won’t tell me how. JEM (Composure shattering) No, god, just listen. Listen! You still think I’m the one who doesn’t get it? God… Abel, you think I don’t know how much I mean to everyone? To you? My parents? My sisters? You think I don’t get that even total strangers would prefer that I not off myself? You really think I don’t realize how much I hurt you when I even think about hurting myself? Why the hell do you think I’m still here? Why-... what do you think it is that holds me back every time, Abel? If I thought, I mean, if I really, really thought nobody gave a damn about me, I wouldn’t be just… just overdosing on pills or making these damn shallow slices in my wrists - I’d be shooting myself in the fucking head! I’d be jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge! Or crashing my car into a brick wall! But I can’t! Because of you! Because I love you enough not to shit all over the love I know you have for me. But the thing YOU don’t get, Abel, the thing that NOBODY gets is that “love” doesn’t fix this thing that’s wrong with me. And… and I can’t stop feeling like I want to die all the time just because you asked me to. I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m sorry. I stay alive for you. But you can’t ask me to be happy about it. So… so what do I need? What do I need you to do for me? A beat. Abel is rendered silent. Jem trembles. Face now drenched in tears. JEM I need… for you to stop trying to love the sickness out of my brain.

FEEDBACK 08 I like the knowledge of a different culture you jammed into the dialogue and how short and precise it was, while still managing to pack an emotional punch. Great job.

--- FEEDBACK FIVE --- Riveting. I might work better if middle four lines (the quick exchange) are either rearranged or removed. You have Abel saying basically the same thing twice. Don't be afraid of tightening up the dialog a bit. It'll grant more room to write other good stuff.

--- SCENE SEVEN --- INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT NIKKI, mid-20s, wearing pajamas is sitting at the table eating ice cream. FELICIA (O.S.): Nikki? FELICIA, mid-20s, enters the kitchen wearing a nice cocktail dress. Nikki keeps eating ice cream. FELICIA: Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. Felicia hugs Nikki and sits at the table. FELICIA (CON'T): Wait are you eating with the small spoon? NIKKI (a mouthful of ice cream): No. Felicia grabs the toddler spoon from Nikki. FELICIA: You can't eat like that. NIKKI: It makes me feel better. FELICIA: You don't need to feel better right now. NIKKI: I'm tired of being sad. FELICIA: I know. Felicia puts her hands on top of Nikki's hands. Nikki smiles and looks down. NIKKI: Oh my god. FELICIA: Wait... no. NIKKI (sobs): He proposed to you tonight? FELICIA: Yeah. NIKKI (sobs): It's a beautiful ring. FELICIA: He did a good job picking it out. NIKKI: I gave my pretty ring back to Max. Nikki starts crying. FELICIA: Oh sweetie. NIKKI (crying): I really loved him, and I know he loved me. We just didn't love being with each other. Does that make any sense? FELICIA: Nothing is going to make sense. I'm not going to lie and say it will get better or easier, but the tears will become less frequent. NIKKI: That's good, mine taste like peach schnapps right now. FELICIA: I know. I can smell it from here.

Scene 5 EXT. WASHINGTON PARK – DAY Carriages of every description line the sidewalk. The benches are crowded with parents and nannies and screaming toddlers. A mother hiding in the shade of an elm deals Excedrin like it was crack. RAMONA, 23, frazzled and frumpy, burps her baby and bounces to the faint beat of rap music from the far side of the park. The baby cries. MARCOS, 27, nicely put together wearing matching clothes (spit-up down the back of his shirt), bounces a baby beside her. The baby cries. Ramona: Sure is a nice day. Marcos: No, it’s not Macie Gray. Ramona: You’re right. Not hazy today. Marcos: No, I don’t like Macie Gray. Ramona moves closer. Marcos moves closer. The babies scream. Writing that gives me a headache. Ramona: You have a cute baby. Marcos: Did you just call me baby? Ramona: What? Marcos: What? A thick cloud blots out the sun. The babies stop crying. All the babies stop crying. The silence is eerie, a strange echo of crying fills the park. Marcos moves closer to Ramona. Ramona adjusts her top. Marcos: Will you be here tomorrow? The cloud passes. The babies resume crying. Ramona: Yes. Marcos begins to cry. Marcos: These games you play. I don’t want to guess.