EXT. SAN FRANCISCO MARINA — AFTERNOON

Stately yachts glisten in the sun. Postcard day in the Bay. Down a wooden pier, each ship gets smaller and shabbier…

KEITH V.O. (pleasant): Hey, Charles. Keith Holmes here, Department of Education. Just wanna give you a friendly heads up- your student loan’s overdue. Call me.

… At the end, a ragged, dinky sailboat that Cuban refugees would refuse. A rusted bicycle lays on the grimy deck.

INT. SAILBOAT

Cramped. Messy. Reeks of seaweed and musty drapes.

KEITH V.O.: Been a few months, buddy, gettin’ a lil’ worried. Gimme a call.

College textbooks from multiple subjects litter the floor… a fraternity paddle and photos of cheery, drunk students- spanning 8 years, mind you- hang on the curved, plaster wall.

A lump in the tiny bed rises. This is CHARLES ‘CHAS’ CHANDLER (27), a good-hearted slacker trying to find his way in life. The contrast between the clean-cut, baby-faced freshman in the photo and the groggy, wild haired man-child is… stark.

KEITH V.O. (no longer pleasant): What, think ya can just hide away? Huh? Pretend I don’t exist? Figment a’ your fucking imagination?

Chas straggles to his feet. Sports a frayed Saucy College #1 Party School shirt. Plops down at the rickety table. Turns on his laptop, anxious. His cat (Saucy) leaps up next to him…

KEITH V.O.: I know where you live.

… Clicks on an email titled ‘EMPLOYMENT OPPORTUNITY’ Covers his hand over the screen, too afraid to look… slowly spreads his fingers… rejected. Reason? ‘Low credit score.’ Saucy nuzzles him. In the somber silence, Chas’ cell rings- a loud, lewd hip hop tone- jolting him. Eyes his phone: Dad

Fear paralyzes him. Mutes the call, too afraid to answer.