An eccentric, late middle-aged WOMAN, dressed in coordinating rags, rides with her TODDLER in the child’s seat on her bike.

The Woman peddles along haphazardly, somehow avoiding potholes and PEDESTRIANS alike.

The Street Noises fade ever so slightly as the Classical MUSIC crescendos.

The Woman and the Toddler each wear earbud headphones strapped to their own iPod shuffles.

High above it all in a windowed-loft, an iPod sits docked in its speaker system; classical MUSIC streams throughout the loft, intermingled with the key TAPS from earlier.

At a cozy table near a window sits a petite and delicate flower of a woman, dressed in vintage floral gauze, as she types at an old manual typewriter–it is the POET.

Her key TAPS, rhythmic and light, are akin to a pianist as her lithe hands float in perfect form across the keys.

She STOPS, stands, grabs her coffee, and sashays over to the floor to ceiling window. She gazes out across the city, and down to the street below where:

The Woman and her Toddler ride past.

The Poet smiles knowingly, sympathetically.

Her eyes wander a moment and land—transfixed on TWO FRAMED EIGHT BY TEN PHOTOGRAPHS of elementary CHILDREN smiling awkwardly, posed.

The Poet watches as the Woman and her Toddler disappear down the street.

Suddenly inspired, the Poet returns to her typing.

The TAPS merge with, and are eventually replaced by, the slushy sounds of wintry STREET NOISES, still accompanied by classical MUSIC.

Classical MUSIC continues as the SOUNDS of slushy winter street cradle the Woman, dressed in layers of rags.

She drags a sled behind her with her bundled-up Toddler strapped and blanketed firmly into place.

A HEARSE passes her, splashing her and her Toddler. She merely trudges on.

A classical DIRGE sounds as a hearse sits outside a city church. The doors spring open as a tiny casket is carried out by precious few PALLBEARERS, dressed for the winter.

Following the precession is the Woman, perfectly coifed and adorned in the finest warm clothes. She hangs her head, watching her feet descend the stairs.

As the casket is loaded up, the Woman looks up to the top of the building across the street.

A GASP sounds off screen.

The Poet ducks behind the curtain as the MUSIC continues on.

Gaining her courage, the Poet steps from behind the curtain into full view.

She watches as the Woman is assisted into the car.

Before the door is closed, the Woman glances up again. She meets the Poet’s eyes. They are locked in stare.

The door is closed and the Woman disappears behind tinted glass.

The Poet touches the glass, feebly reaching out.

The hearse and the limousine pull away and drive uptown as the MUSIC again crescendos.

The classical MUSIC continues on.

A BUSINESS MAN in a suit and overcoat, earbud headphones in and connected to an iPod in his pocket, carries a briefcase, newspaper and coffee.

He stops at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk sign to flash.

The Business Man looks up at the light. Something catches his eye: it is

THE WOMAN

As she pulls the sled with her Toddler in it through the intersection.

The Business Man also spies

A CAR

Barreling toward the intersection.

THE BUSINESS MAN

Drops his briefcase, paper and coffee, and dashes into the street.

THE BRIEFCASE

Bounces and THUDS on the sidewalk as it lands in a puddle.

THE BUSINESS MAN’S

Shoes race through slush and puddles.

THE COFFEE

Splatters and spills its black liquid everywhere.

THE WOMAN

Unaware of her situation, trudges on, towing her Baby behind her.

THE CAR

Is nearly upon the Woman and her Baby, as

THE BUSINESS MAN

Frantically dashes to save the Baby.

THE PAPER

Flutters, tears apart and scatters into the wind.

THE CAR

Swerves just in time, avoiding all three, just as

THE WOMAN

Climbs onto the curb and hauls the sled up onto the sidewalk beside her.

THE BUSINESS MAN

Double takes as

THE TODDLER

Wrapped in blankets tumbles from the sled onto the street.

A small break in the MUSIC as the iPod moves onto the next classical selection.

The Poet pulls herself away from the window and saunters to her typewriter.

She sits. Reflects. Looks up, again catching the image of two youngsters caught in the

TWO FRAMED EIGHT-BY-TEN PHOTOGRAPHS

The Poet resumes typing, her TAPS in contrast to the lulling MUSIC.

The MUSIC continues as the Woman looks at the Toddler sprawled in the wintry street.

She steps off the curb and reaches for her Toddler.

The Business Man watches, mouth agape, as the Woman plucks the Toddler up by a limb.

She dusts off the Toddler roughly. It’s okay. It’s not a Toddler at all.

It’s a DOLL.

The Business Man pulls his earbud headphones from his ears.

The MUSIC STOPS.

A HORN blares as a new car barrels down on him.

The Business Man simply turns and looks. He is inertia personified.

Until the car SLAMS into him.

The Woman blinks at the sight of the barreled down Business Man.

She wraps her Toddler Doll back up and carefully places it in the sled. She waits for the light to change.

Behind her the DRIVER races frantically about, the MUSIC matching his intense dread.

The Business Man remains still, lifeless as the Doll. A puddle of blood oozes from his midsection.

MOURNERS follow a CASKET carried by a crew of PALLBEARERS as the classical DIRGE drones on.

Across the street, above the scene, on the other side of a window stands the Poet, clutching a cup of coffee to her bosom and watching the funeral below.

She blinks back her tears.

Behind her on a shelf rests a makeshift memorial. An eight-by-ten of the Business Man is propped up next to an urn. Dried flowers rest beside it.

The door to the loft BANGS open. In race a BOY and a GIRL, the two youngsters from the framed eight by ten school photographs.

They race into the embrace of the Poet who has crouched to catch them.

They tumble onto the floor, book bags scattering, the Poet’s coffee cup falling to the floor.

The Boy and Girl stand and race off.

The Poet rests on her back, her coffee puddles from her midsection.

The classical MUSIC continues from the iPod in its speaker dock, as we...