Honest Tom Ln.

A man and a woman enter a ballroom arm-in-arm. Their guests all stand and clap while an orchestra plays. The couple walks to a table at the front of the room. She sits at it, but he remains standing. The orchestra fades and the clapping ceases as he picks up a glass from the table, raising it to toast his and her fifty years together. Afterwards, their guests clap once more and resume chatter as the orchestra launches into another number.

Later, the couple dances slowly in the middle of the marble floor, amidst the crowd. With her head and white-evening-glove-clad arms resting upon his tuxedo'd shoulders, neither of them speaks. They merely sway, spinning slowly; their movements never rushed nor out of sync.

. . .

Two wrecked cars rest peacefully in the center of a residential instersection on a brightly lit summer's afternoon. A teenage girl sits curbside in hysterics as medical personnel restrain her, tending to her injuries. She looks towards the vehicles as she sobs.