I choose to Love - a small little Screenplay scene
The gentle hum of the train fills the space. The window is streaked with rain, the world outside a blur of dim lights. JAMIE, late 20s, sits by the window, lost in thought. Across from him, a figure, IDHREN, sits quietly with a book, observing the rain.
IDHREN
(softly, almost to themselves)
It’s funny, isn’t it? How trains always make people think.
Maybe it’s the rhythm... or the feeling of going somewhere,
but not needing to rush. You look like someone with stories in your head or maybe a heavy heart. Am I wrong?
JAMIE looks up, intrigued, a small smile playing on his lips.
JAMIE
(chuckling)
Well, that’s an interesting way to open a conversation.
So you assume I’m either a poet or a broken soldier?
JAMIE leans back, a playful glint in his eye.
JAMIE (cont’d)
Well, why not both? A battleworn bard sings the most wonderful tales, don’t you think?
IDHREN
(smiling, thoughtful)
A battleworn bard... I like that. Wounds make the verses sharper, don’t they?
The best songs are the ones with a little blood still clinging to them.
And I suppose every poet is a kind of soldier, just fighting silence instead of swords.
IDHREN set the book aside and lean forward slightly, studying JAMIE.
IDHREN (cont’d)
So tell me, bard.. what’s the last battle you didn’t write about yet?
JAMIE looks out the window, his expression turning thoughtful, a distant sadness in his eyes.
JAMIE
This train ride. Just kidding.
(pauses, looking down at his hands)
Well, I’m on a quest to meet someone, which is an extreme battle itself.
But I know at the end of the path, he is waiting for me. I think that will be my biggest tale.
IDHREN
(softly)
Now that sounds like the kind of tale that stays with someone.
The kind that gets retold in hushed voices long after the fire’s burned low.
IDHREN (cont’d)
Is he someone you’ve known before? Or someone you’ve only met in dreams?
JAMIE looks up, the intensity in his eyes softening.
JAMIE
Well, it’s a bit more difficult.
It’s someone I’ve always known, but yet will never know fully.
I’ve met him in my dreams, and he met me… in his memory.
But I think he doesn’t know I’m looking for him.
IDHREN
(quietly)
Maybe that’s what love really is.
Not just finding someone... but remembering them.
Even when they’ve forgotten you.
The rain outside taps softly against the glass, the only sound in the quiet train carriage.
THEY (cont’d)
If he could hear you right now — just one sentence — what would you want to say to him?
JAMIE smiles softly, his gaze far away, as if he can feel the presence of the person he's speaking of.
JAMIE
I would tell him to keep going...
even if that means we will never meet in this timeline.
IDHREN nod slowly, understanding the depth of his words.
IDHREN
(whispering)
That’s the kind of love that doesn’t bind... it frees..
Telling someone to keep going, even without you, that’s not just love. That’s grace. That’s... the kind of strength that bends time itself. Who knows?”
IDHREN glance out the window again, the passing lights reflecting like stars.
Maybe your timelines don’t need to meet. Maybe they’ll braid. Maybe he’ll find your words hidden in the wind one day and wonder why they feel like home.
JAMIE
He will find my words, in His poetry..
JAMIE looks down at IDHRENS book and Smiles
..in his books, in his morning and in his evening. In his Future and in His past, do you want to know why?
JAMIE turns his head in a playfull manner
Or do you know who am i looking for?
IDHREN
I had a feeling... from the moment you said he met you in memory.”
IDHREN taps the book’s spine gently, like a heartbeat.
You're not chasing a stranger. You're walking toward a mirror. Toward the echo of yourself that got left behind somewhere, in a different life, a different skin, maybe even a different kind of sorrow.
Their eyes meet.
You're looking for you, aren’t you? The part of you he holds. The version of you he remembers even when you forget.
