What’s in the box
FADE IN:
INT. LIBRARY – DAY
A dusty shaft of light cuts across the quiet, book-lined library.
BILLY (16), gangly and sarcastic, stumbles out of a storage room, arms full of dusty moving boxes. He squints through the haze.
Across the room stands SUSAN (40s), the no-nonsense librarian — and Billy’s mom. One hand on her hip, the other wields a feather duster like a saber.
BILLY
I really don’t understand why I have to do this right now.
It’s Saturday. You’re being completely unreasonable.
SUSAN
You’re right. I am being unreasonable.
I should’ve just grounded you for three months and taken away your computer, tablet, phone, and every gaming device you own.
BILLY
Wait—what? No! That’s not what I said at all!
SUSAN
No, no—I hear you loud and clear.
Totally unfair of me to ask for one little Saturday morning of help.
Go ahead. Head home if you want.
BILLY
…Really?
SUSAN
Sure. Might as well start your grounding now.
Why prolong the fun?
BILLY
(sighs)
Okay, I see what you did there. So it’s either stay down in the basement, inhaling black mold and getting gnawed on by rabid mice—
—or go home and be grounded until I graduate. Cool.
SUSAN
Look at you, Sherlock.
And I told you to wear a dust mask.
BILLY
Still got PTSD from COVID. Never wearing a mask again.
SUSAN
Way to shatter my dreams of raising a future surgeon.
Or dentist. Or anyone who’d willingly wear gloves.
BILLY
Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mom.
You’re not that old. You could still have another kid—maybe you’ll get it right next time.
SUSAN
(chuckling)
One can only hope.
(points to a table stacked with boxes)
Set those there. Then we’ll make space for the ones without labels.
BILLY
You got it, boss.
When I’m done with that… can I take a break? I’m starving.
SUSAN
You literally ate 15 minutes ago.
You’ll survive.
Tell you what—once you’ve got the next two rows of boxes out and sorted, you get a 30-minute break.
Just check in with me before you disappear.
BILLY
Two rows?! That’ll take forever!
Isn’t child labor illegal?
Pretty sure this violates the Geneva Convention. Or… cruel and unusual punishment!
SUSAN
If I were aiming for cruel and unusual,
trust me—I’d get way more creative.
And just to remind you, I’m not the one who snuck off to a party where there were drugs and alcohol floating around.
I’m also not the one who lied to her sweet, trusting mother and said she was going to the movies with “a couple friends.”
(pause)
Also—I gave you forty bucks for that movie. Where’s my money?
BILLY
(shuffling backwards toward the storage room)
Sorry—what’s that? Can’t hear you.
All the cardboard must be absorbing the sound. I’ll be back. Hold that thought.
He disappears into the shadows. Susan sighs and starts dusting the boxes Billy just dropped on the table.
⸻
INT. LIBRARY – CONTINUOUS – TIME LAPSE
A WIDE SHOT holds as hours pass.
The tables fill up, stacks of boxes growing three deep. Some spill onto the floor. Many are opened, revealing ancient, worn books.
No sound but the soft hum of overhead lights.
⸻
INT. LIBRARY STORAGE ROOM DOORWAY – LATE AFTERNOON
Billy lumbers out, filthy and disheveled, dragging two more boxes.
BILLY
Only got three left.
You still here?
No answer. Just the steady buzz of fluorescent lights.
Outside, the sky dims — sunset bleeding through the windows. The library suddenly feels much too quiet.
BILLY
(calling louder)
Ma?
Hello?
Silence.
⸻
INT. STORAGE ROOM STAIRWAY – EVENING
Billy stomps down the creaky stairs, lit by hanging pendulum lights that sway slightly overhead.
BILLY
Two more and I’m done. Then I am out of here.
He grabs the metal box, hoists it—
CLANG. The rusted handle detaches. The box crashes into the shadows, out of the light’s reach.
Billy stares at the broken handle in his hand.
BILLY
Yep. That’s about right.
He grabs the last box — cardboard — braces for the weight, but it’s featherlight. He groans anyway and hauls it upstairs.
⸻
INT. LIBRARY – MOMENTS LATER
Billy tosses the box in front of a table, then rifles through the librarian’s desk.
He finds a flashlight, clicks it on. Bright beam. Good enough.
Back down the stairs he goes.
⸻
INT. STORAGE ROOM – EVENING
The flashlight casts deep shadows.
The box lies just ahead, in a pool of gloom.
Billy approaches slowly. The box’s lock is shattered, the whole thing on the verge of crumbling.
He crouches, wipes off the dust. Spits on his thumb and rubs again.
Carved faintly into the surface, just above the latch:
W.S.
SMASH CUT TO BLACK.
Iiioìiiiii
⸻
END OF SCENE.
⸻
