INT. QUAINT BAKERY
Jennifer, 29, enters with two snowflakes on her immaculate hair and a smile on her face. An older woman, Abigail, looks up from behind the counter.
JENNIFER: Christmas, Christmas. Snow! Christmas. Cookies?
Abigail turns around and produces a fresh tray of cookies. Jennifer, an adult woman, looks on in astonishment.
JENNIFER: Oh, Christmas! Christmas for me?
ABIGAIL (wryly): Mhmm, Christmas.
INT. GLASS-WALLED OFFICE
Mark, 29, is sitting at his desk with a sheet of paper in each hand. He looks at one sheet.
He looks at the other sheet.
MARK (sighing): Work.
Mark picks up his phone and talks into the receiver.
MARK: Work, work. Work. Yes. Work. Dividends, accounts. Work.
Mark hangs up the phone. Mr. Boss enters the office.
MR. BOSS: Mark, busy? Work. Work, work, work. Big sale. Work. Work of high quality.
MARK (nodding): Thank you. Work.
Mr. Boss hands Mark a third sheet of paper.
MR. BOSS: Work indeed. Clients. Christmas clients. Christmas work. On my desk by the end of the movie.
Mr. Boss exits the office. Mark holds the third sheet of paper and looks dejected, confused, afraid.
EXT. CITY BLOCK
Mark and Jennifer are walking toward one another from opposite sides of a city block. Snow drifts romantically down. Jennifer is looking in store windows with a fistful of cookies. Mark has his collar up and his head down, a briefcase in his hand. (MUSIC NOTE: like a farty tuba and bells or something)
JENNIFER (gasps): Christmas! Christmas!
MARK (muttering): Work, work work.
Mark and Jennifer, both distracted by work and Christmas (respectively), collide (cymbal crash). Mark’s briefcase bursts open, spewing his three sheets of paper. Jennifer’s cookies land delicately in the snow.
JENNIFER: Sorry! Christmas! Christmas.
MARK: Work, work, no, I’m sorry, work.
They help each other pick up the spilled stuff. Mark rises with cookies in his hand.
Jennifer rises with one of Mark’s sheets.
INT. ICE-SKATING RINK
Mark and Jennifer ice skate at an empty ice skating rink.
INT. JENNIFER’S LUXURIOUS-YET-COZY APARTMENT DEN
Jennifer emerges from the kitchen with two hot chocolates, whipped cream swirled perfectly on top. Mark is looking at the ornate stockings over the fireplace, befuddled. Jennifer rolls her eyes.
JENNIFER: Oh, Mark. Christmas.
MARK: Huh. Not work?
JENNIFER: No, Christmas! You never Christmas?
MARK: No, I work. Work work work. Dad worked. Dad worked and worked. Dad sad. Dad sad work. Mom dead, car crash/cancer. So Dad worked sad and sad worked. No Christmas.
JENNIFER (clearly moved): But… Christmas. Christmas: presents, lights, cookies, tree—
Mark looks at the Christmas tree, contemplating deeply.
JENNIFER: —snow, santa, love—
JENNIFER: In this movie, yes.
MARK: Ohhh, Christmas!
JENNIFER: Yes, Christmas!
MARK: Christmas Christmas Christmas!
JENNIFER: So, no work?
They hear singing. Mark pulls aside a curtain and looks outside. Mr. Boss and Abigail are caroling together outside on the snowy sidewalk.
MARK: No work. Only Christmas.
JENNIFER: No Christmas. Kissmas.
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