afa

She is dressed poorly and she is having a conversation with herself about which type of tea to drink, she hates coffee. the conversation switches between happy, dramatic, joyful and full of dead and existential crisis.

INT. BANKOALLE'S APARTMENT – MORNING

BANKOALLE, a disheveled woman in her mid-50s, stands in her cluttered kitchen, wearing a mismatched outfit of sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. She stares at her collection of tea bags, muttering to herself.

BANKOALLE: (happy) Oh, I think I'll have a nice cup of chamomile today. It's so calming and soothing.

She picks up the chamomile tea bag and starts to fill up her kettle, but then stops and changes her mind.

BANKOALLE: (dramatic) No, wait. I need something stronger. Something with more flavor and intensity.

She puts the chamomile tea bag down and starts to rummage through her tea collection, muttering to herself.

BANKOALLE: (joyful) Ah, yes! Earl Grey. It's so elegant and refined.

She picks up the Earl Grey tea bag and starts to fill up her kettle, but then stops and changes her mind again.

BANKOALLE: (full of dread) What's the point? Why even bother? Life is meaningless.

She drops the Earl Grey tea bag and starts to stare blankly out the window, lost in an existential crisis.

BANKOALLE: (to herself) Why do we even bother with these little things? Drinking tea, dressing up, trying to be happy? We're all going to die anyway.

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, trying to snap out of it.

BANKOALLE: (shaking her head) No, no, no. I can't think like that. I have to stay positive.

She picks up a green tea bag and starts to fill up her kettle, but then stops and changes her mind once more.

BANKOALLE: (paranoid) Wait, what if the green tea is poisoned? What if someone is trying to kill me?

She drops the green tea bag and starts to pace nervously around the kitchen, muttering to herself.

BANKOALLE: (paranoid) I can't trust anyone. Not even myself. I have to be careful.

The kettle starts to whistle, interrupting her thoughts. BANKOALLE jumps, startled, and then takes a deep breath.

BANKOALLE: (to herself) Okay, okay. I'll just make some tea and try to relax.

She pours the boiling water over a plain black tea bag, and takes a sip, looking momentarily content before her expression once again turns to one of worry.

BANKOALLE: (whispering to herself) But what if this is just a distraction? What if I'm missing something important?

She takes another sip of her tea, lost in thought as the camera fades to black.