Int. Breakfast room - morning

DOZENS OF RETIREES are having breakfast, sipping weak coffee

or tea. Some chat and gossip, other are content to keep their

own company, some just stare slackly into space.

Paul enters, sees ELAINE CONNELLY sitting with a few other

ladies, sipping tea. She's 80, refined and elegant, his best

friend here. She gives him a good-morning smile. He gives her

a rakish wink in return, which makes her smiles all the more.

Paul reaches past the people at the counter and sneaks two

pieces of cold leftover toast off a serving plate. He tosses

Elaine another look--catch ya later--and exits.

INT. HALLWAY PAST KITCHEN - MORNING

Paul slips to the back door unnoticed. Identical red plastic

rain ponchos line the wall on pegs. He helps himself to one

and eases outside, making good his escape.

EXT. NURSING HOME - ESTABLISHING - MORNING

Nestled in a valley of wooded hills, a drizzly mist rolling

over the treetops.

Paul appears f.g., coming up the ridge in his borrowed

poncho. He looks back at the valley below, inhales deeply--

this is a man who loves his walks.

He pulls a piece of toast from his pocket and starts to

nibble as he presses up on the ridge...

Low angle: nursing home and ridge beyond

...and we see Paul from a distance, just a speck trudging up

toward the treeline. A PICKUP TRUCK rumbles into frame and

parks, a bumper sticker looming large: " I Have Seen God and

His Name Is Newt Gingrich".

BRAD DOLAN gets out, an orderly in his late 20's/early 30's,

arriving for work in jeans and cheesy plaid shirt. He gazes

up toward the ridge, scowling and muttering softly:

BRAD

Old fuck.

He slams the door and heads for the nursing home...

EXT. WOODS - MORNING

...as CAMERA BOOMS DOWN through the trees to find Paul

wandering a wooded path, munching a tidbit of toast, looking

for all the world like Red Riding Hood in his plastic poncho.

It's silent here, like a church. The only sounds we hear are

the twittering of the birds and the hammering of the

woodpecker.

A RUSTLING SOUND makes Paul freeze. He turns, becomes

transfixed. Softly:

PAUL

Oh, my...

Reverse angle

reveals a magnificent BUCK, not twenty feet away, misty

breath punching the cold morning air. They watch each other

for an endless moment, both standing stock still...

...and then the animal bounds away, vanishing into the

foliage. Paul lets out a breath, shakes his head in wonder.

He takes another bite of toast, moves on...

...and WE PAN WITH HIM to reveal a pair of old wooden storage

shacks along the path up ahead.