BLUE

FADE IN:

INT. SUPERMARKET - TOY AISLE - DAY

We never see a face. Not here, not anywhere in this film. The camera lives at toy height, over shoulders, on hands, on backs. The BABY BLUE STUFFED ANIMAL is the only thing ever truly in focus.

A shelf of loud primary color. Wedged between two identical siblings, the toy (BLUE). Soft and unspecific. A bear, maybe. A rabbit.

The camera pans backward slowly.

A WOMAN crosses the frame, ribs down, pushing a stroller. Out.

Beat.

Off screen, a BABY CRIES.

The wheels stop. Reverse. The stroller parks dead center.

Camera stays still.

A small hand rises out of the stroller into frame and grasps at the air.

The woman's hand enters frame as she reaches for the blue one by the ear and lifts it, and hands it to the child, who greedily snatches and snuggles it.

The crying stops.

EXT. SUPERMARKET – AT CAR

The child is sitting in his car seat, the toy crushed against his small chest, his arms locked around it, or at least as much as they reach.

The mom’s hands come in as she attempts to buckle the child in, and she pulls gently on the toy, causing the child to shriek.

Her hands are off it instantly.

INT. FAMILY CAR - MOVING - LATER

Back seat. The toy is enormous, covering the child’s chin to ankle, two small hands slack somewhere in it.

A streetlight slides across the fur. Then another.

MONTAGE - THE YEARS

All of it shot the same way. Toy sharp, world soft. Match Cuts, until laundry break, then back to match cuts.

PARK. The toy on a bench facing the swings. Beyond it, blurred, a small figure goes up and comes down.

SOCCER FIELD. The toy leaned against a water jug on the sideline. Out in the green, a game.

Living Room. The toy leaning next to the child while he plays video games.

BEACH. The toy half buried, sand packed into the fur, sunburned.

FOOTBALL FIELD. The toy in the open mouth of a duffel. A helmet drops in and knocks it over. The zipper closes.

LAUNDRY ROOM. The toy flat against the washer glass, spinning. Reverse: two sneakers planted in front of the door, not moving.

KITCHEN. Hands, a needle, an ear held in place. The stitching does not match. A smaller pair of hands waits at the edge of frame, opening and closing on nothing.

END MONTAGE

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Locked off. We return to this exact frame three times. Only the distance changes.

The toy on the pillow, head on the pillow, the way a person would be. A small shape breathes beside it.

Lights out.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT (LATER)

Same frame. The toy is on the desk now, three feet from the bed, facing it. The shape under the covers is longer.

Lights out.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT (LATER STILL)

Same frame. The desk has chargers and a phone face down. The toy is gone from the shot.

TILT UP to the toy leaning on some books on a floating shelf.

Lights out.

INT. TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The thin orange line of light under a door. Through the floor, two voices. It has been going on long enough to stop being words, but not long enough to feel normal.

In the dark, a shape sits up. Bare feet cross the carpet.

The cabinet opens. Phone light sweeps the inside. Binders, wires, a trophy on its side.

Hands push through it, then faster, close to panic.

The light stops. The blue. Faded almost gray, one ear in mismatched thread.

INT. TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - DOOR - CONTINUOUS

He sits with his back against the door, knees up, out of focus. The toy against his chest is the only thing sharp.

Below, the argument rises, breaks, starts again.

We hold. Longer than is comfortable.

The voices stop. The house goes quiet, and that is worse.

His arms tighten.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM – DAY

Camera slowly panning backward

On the shelf, looking out, the toy sits upright on the shelf and squares its shoulders. The camera pans out to reveal the room of a cliché adolescent male. Posters of girls, bands, and cars, against the navy wall, line the room.

Camera stops

Match cut to…

INT. BEDROOM - DAY (YEARS LATER)

The same room now stripped. Gray rectangles where posters were. A bare mattress. Taped boxes by the door. The shelf empty.

The only thing left standing is the stuffed animal.

Off frame, a trunk closing. A voice calling up the stairs.

A blurred figure walks into the barren room and carries out the last box.

The light flicks off.

The door shuts.

The door opens back up; the light switch clicks on. The child, who's not a child anymore, goes back and gets the toy, and gently places him in the crevice of one of the boxes.

INT. FAMILY CAR - MOVING - DAY

Same frame and angle as the drive home when he was two.

The toy is small now, sitting on a sealed box between luggage and a folded comforter.

We see the stuffed animal through the window, and the overlaid reflection of the house going by.

INT. DORM ROOM - DAY

Hands lift the toy out of a box. Hold it a second. Then set it on top of the closet, above eye level, out of the way.

It settles crooked and stays.

MONTAGE - FRESHMAN YEAR

Same high angle across the closet top. Lights on, lights off. Someone else's laundry on the floor, then gone. Two blurred people laughing at a laptop. A pre-game, two people beneath the covers. Winter light, then spring light.

The toy does not move once.

END MONTAGE

INT. DORM ROOM - NIGHT

A laptop asleep. A phone buzzing on the desk, then face down.

A figure on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, head down. Out of focus.

He stands. Reaches up to the top of the closet.

INT. DORM ROOM - DOOR - CONTINUOUS

Back against the door, knees up, the toy against his chest. The same frame as he was at fourteen. Cheaper door, tile floor.

Down the hall, you can hear the other people's lives. Music through a wall, a party that has nothing to do with him.

His breathing evens out.

CUT TO:

INT. HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

A shelf. Warm light. A room we have never been in.

The toy, front and center, encompassing the frame. in focus. Almost white now, with a second repair on the ear.

The camera moves backwards and to the left to reveal another one on the shelf. Faded lavender, a ribbon gone colorless. Equally old, equally repaired. Loved by somebody else, just as long, in a house we will never see.

2 adults sit on the floor, leaning over their little one, who lies in a cradle. They are out of focus in the blurred foreground.

We hear their laughter. The small one shrieking with it.

We cut to

A brand-new stuffed animal. Clean. Both ears original. Still creased from the shelf it came off.

It is held in a very small fist that does not intend to let go.

Hold.

CUT TO BLACK.

THE END