EXT. BUS STOP – DAY A tiny, half-enclosed cube made of ugly grey metal houses two girls, scrunched together on a bench that’s too small. Beth sits next to another girl with the curliest goddamn hair you’ve ever seen. It seems the perfect extension of this teenager who sits with arms crossed, hands crossed, legs cross – MIRIAM is the poster child for anxious. BETH There was nothing to say. MIRIAM Did you tell her we were going into the city today? BETH She knows I’m with you. MIRIAM I woulda said something. BETH That’s cause you’re a talker Miriam. MIRIAM I am. And I love my mom. BETH I love my mom.
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