She moves away from the waiter and scans the crowded room. Nothing. Then, out of the corner of her eye, almost imperceptible at first, at a table towards the rear of the room, she sees a woman’s blonde head thrown back in laughter; the woman seems to be encapsulated in or protected by a haze of light and smoke. It’s CAROL, CAROL as THERESE has always seen her and as she will see her evermore: in SLOW MOTION, like in a dream or a single, defining memory, substantial yet elusive. She moves towards her. CAROL raises a wine glass to her lips and as she does, she turns slightly and spots THERESE. She is not startled. We see her face softening.
THERESE continues to approach. CAROL watches with a smile burning in her eyes. THERESE has nearly arrived.