Quiet on the Set

*Fade in: 'Dare You to Move by Switchfoot' begins to play as Sarah's beat-up Chevy Impala pulls up to Mark's house in a typical residential neighborhood. It's raining. Hard. The streetlights are dimly lit. Pan to Mark's door. It opens revealing Mark. Sarah gets out of her car. She stands in the rain. They lock eyes. They race towards each other (chorus ensues) and leap into a passionate embrace; kissing, the chorus grows louder*

Hollywood's version of love. It's sweet...it's easy. It's kissing in the rain. Unfortunately, that's not reality. Reality is painful. Reality hurts. Reality is love lost and dreams diminished. Reality is that time between "Goodnight" and "Good Morning" where you're left alone to deal with your thoughts in the silence. Reality is knowing that you can't always be happy. It is a broken bone; a blemish on a pre-pubescent; that final goodbye. Love, in reality, is sacrificial. It's tiring. It's knowing when to let go...even if you don't want to. Love, in reality, is distance. It's timing. It's unfair. It is that regretful wonder; that "what if". Love is when reality is worth waking up for, even if you're waking up alone. It gives you the strength to keep fighting but it also provides you with the courage to stop. There is no greater internal Armageddon than the battle between heart and mind; Between hope and logic; Between the strength to fight and the courage to stop.

In reality, Sarah would drive to Mark's house, but he wouldn't be waiting by the door. She would call him. He would tell her to stop.  He would be gone and she would be broken.

*End Scene*