NOIR

Prequel. 

1948. 

Somewhere in L.A...a black-and-white memory...

I’m alone, a small child standing on the upholstered bench seat of a dark sedan parked against the curb in front of a low, flat house. The house has an awning and a porch...there’s a narrow lawn...and a narrow sidewalk running alongside it. 

The air is damp, my forehead pressed against the cold window. A car sits in the driveway next to the house...a few grown-ups stand next to it. Someone, a man, approaches the car I’m in...opens the driver’s door...slides into the front seat beside me and starts the engine. 

Now I’m crying because I don’t want to go with this person, I want to go with someone else...someone who has just disappeared inside the other car. I hear the muffled sound of a car door slamming. 

We drive off, and I’m looking out the back window...crying harder now.