looking down to the street from the eighth floor. we see joanna step off the curb and hail a passing taxi.
the bed is empty, there is no sign that anyone has slept in it.
ted kramer, still fully dressed, looking like the wrath of god is asleep in the chair.
there, on the kitchen cabinet is a box of "natural grain" cereal, a jar of honey, some wheat germ, and a banana, with carefully written instructions from joanna underneath.
billy sits, watching television with an almost ferocious intensity on his face, doing his best to block out ted's voice.
there, in the drawer, sitting on top of a pile of clothing is one of the photographs of joanna that ted put away this afternoon.
billy asleep, tangled up in the covers.
the sprinkler area. other children are running around, but there is no sign of billy.
another area of the playground. billy is nowhere in sight.
looking in another direction. nothing.
there in the distance is billy kramer, running as hard as he can away from ted.
across the room eighteen to twenty mothers are gathered, sitting on tiny chairs and at work tables watching as their children put on a show.
there stands phyllis, naked as the day she was born, a look of stunned amazement on her face.
on the walls are a series of mock-ups of the various fire and ice ads, none of which are what ted and o'connor had agreed upon.
billy struggling to get his pajamas on, having a hard time.
billy and kim are standing near the jungle jim. billy has a toy airplane in his hand.
the room is empty, the door stands open and ted is gone.
there, standing in the window, watching, is joanna.
this time there is no one there.
there, standing waiting for him is joanna.
the saturday father, restless, bored, walking with his daughter who is also bored. it is clear that they have nothing to say to one another. he looks around, spots ted, waves and starts in his direction.
the lobby is dark, the only light coming from the window. joanna sits off to one side, wearing sunglasses. she looks up as ted approaches, a small smile on her face.