BRIDGE – Ian Gibson We open at a tall, imposing bridge. Cars are rushing past in the gloomy fog. A young man in his mid-twenties, looking slightly ragged and downtrodden, slowly approaches the railing. He peers over then pulls himself on top of the barrier. Standing now on the edge, he grips a nearby support with his hand, letting his body sway towards the abyss. We see his eyes scan the horizon faintly with no particular focus as a young woman, early twenties, approaches quietly from the side. She: It’s a long way down. He: (startled) W-what? She: Two, two-fifty I would guess. (a pause) She: Feet – two hundred and fifty feet. You know, they say it’s not the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop at the end. She smiles slightly, then lets its drop. He: What do you want? She: Oh, nothing in particular… He: I bet you’re going to try and save me now. She: No – that would be rude of me. For a few moments, they both peer off into the distance. She looks at him for the first time, smiling as she studies his distraught face. She: I don’t know, just the same as you. He: Know what? She: What it all means, why we’re here, who we are in the grand scheme of life… He: (interrupting) You don’t know me. She: True, I don’t know who you are – I don’t even know your name. But I know what you’re thinking. He turns to her for the first time, staring with eyes searching for the unknown. He: (softly) What am I thinking? She: You… are thinking ‘how can I go on? With the whole world falling apart around me, what is their left to live for? For what possible reason would I continue this pointless existence, waking up every miserable day only to face the disappointments my life brings?’ They take a moment to peer into each others eyes until he breaks away. He: I bet you don’t have an answer to that. She: To what? He: Why I…. He carelessly dangles one foot off the bridge, testing the air with pointed toes and careful balance. He: Why I should not jump, why I should walk away from this bridge, why I should continue on with my rotten life. She: I don’t have an answer as to why you should go on living, but I know why I crawl out of bed every god forsaken morning. There is a moment of silence before he turns to look at her, his eyes open and voice soft. He: Why? She: I… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the prospect of a friendly conversation with a stranger, the opportunity to see a new form of beauty in this concrete world, the possibility of finding someone to relate to and fall in love with – or even just the thought of a warm bed to come home to at night. I guess it’s a combination of those that keeps me going, that illegitimate but powerful notion that something new and exciting will happen today, that unbridled optimism of a life with purpose and meaning just around the corner – that is what I live for. A smile creeps slowly onto his face as he lowers himself until he is sitting on the railing, his legs dangling over the edge. He: Hope. She: Hope. He: So what do I do now? She: You get your life back. He: How do I do that? She: You go through the motions. You wake, you work, you socialize - you live each day as it dawns, taking advantage of every opportunity that comes your way. Eventually you’ll find yourself and the will to live. (a pause) He: Thank you. She: No, thank you – this is the type of moment I live for. She quietly walks off. He stares out into the distance for a few seconds before lowering himself from the railing and exiting the scene.