Maya
INT. CONCERT HALL. NEW YORK CITY - DAY In the Upper East side of New York City, rain falls softly on the roof of a concert hall. It presses against the sunlight windows, aching to push its way in. The room is dark, lit only by the clouded sunlight looming over the city. A grand Steinway piano lies in the middle of an empty stage, a single window resting directly above it. The faint music of “Fantaisie Impromptu” by Chopin echoes around the vast room; its ethereal tones bouncing off the acoustic panels lined against the walls. The seats located below the stage are deserted, not a single person in the audience. A woman can be seen playing the Steinway on the stage. This is MAYA LAYNE. A pianist. Her refined features and flawless skin galvanize those around her. A pair of intelligent eyes breathe in observation and exhale understanding. In the middle of the piece, a door at the top right of the hall opens abruptly, causing Maya to slip, making a mistake. Maya’s eyes look up from the notes frighteningly, immediately relaxing when she notices the JANITOR walk in, dragging a mop bucket behind him. JANITOR Miss Layne? Maya takes her hands off the piano. She begins to hurriedly remove the notes from the stand and packs them away in a BROWN MESSENGER BAG. MAYA (hastily) Right, I’ll get this packed up. Is it really 1:00 already? JANITOR Yes ma’am. No need to rush, the concert isn’t until 7. The Janitor drags the mop bucket towards the middle of the hall. He takes a wet cloth and wipes the arms rests of the audience seats. JANITOR (CONT’D) It sounds really beautiful, Miss Layne. Maya stands up, rising slowly, and grabs her messenger bag, slinging it over her shoulder and clutching it firmly.
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