A God-forsaken dot on the map as you drive the two-lane.
A tired, dusty CAR pulls up at a neglected CAFE with a faded name. Wisps of steam escape from under the car's hood.
A WOMAN, 29, hesitantly emerges from the car to survey her situation.
She is full-faced with make-up tips she inherited from her mother. She dresses to play up what she considers assets.
The WOMAN cautiously approaches the cafe.
INT. CAFE - DAY
The PROPRIETOR, elderly, stands behind the counter and stops wiping it when the door opens.
Like the cafe, he has let his health and appearance run down and he doesn't have the energy to care anymore.
He looks suspiciously at the WOMAN.
The WOMAN closes the door and guardedly advances to look around.
A mismatched collection of tables and chairs, a lunch counter, no customers. A couple of old discolored illustrations on the wall.
Faded red gingham table clothes. An unattended laptop open to an uncompleted solitaire game on one table. A biker's leather jacket draped over a chair at another table.
Then, the WOMAN's gaze fixes on one spot.
Multi-color stripes on the floor lead to a small stage at the back. An arcade game and unused chairs clutter the stage. A black door is open, but it is too dark to see beyond.
The PROPRIETOR apprehensively eyes the WOMAN.
She turns toward him. A smile slowly appears on her face.
The PROPRIETOR looks gravely concerned and firmly leans on the counter.
by Edd Harnas