Scene 1

A man carrying a small take out container and an iced coffee from his favorite bistro is walking upon the tattered boardwalk back to the office. He has headphones on and is whistling loudly and slightly reminiscent of the song plucking away in his ears. As he approaches a narrow bend in the boardwalk, a tall kid in his early 20s wearing jeans and an open vest, revealing his sunburned chest, walks up to him, kind of slumped forward looking bored. Suddenly, a knife is thrust against the whistling man’s lower back. It doesn’t break his flesh, but rests there, aggressively waiting any foolish move. His container and iced coffee drop to the ground, splashing his pant cuffs with cream and brown stains. [Slow Motion] The Pastrami and melted swiss, that was once nestled between freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, and a delicious mix of salad greens, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and olives, falls across the wood planks of the boardwalk. Tender slices of the salted pastrami slip between the planks. The whistling man’s dismay turns to anger. “Motherfucker! That was a perfect fuckin’ half salad and sandwich!”

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