I so desperately hate to end these movies that the first thing I

Host:
The film set was quiet now — a graveyard of laughter and neon. The lights that once burned like stars over the soundstage had been switched off, leaving the space bathed in the ghostly glow of exit signs. A few props — a coffee cup, a forgotten scarf, a script dog-eared and stained — lay abandoned, like relics of some vanished summer.

Jack sat alone on a wooden crate, his grey eyes fixed on the emptiness before him. The camera tracks stretched into shadow like forgotten rails leading nowhere. Jeeny entered quietly, her footsteps soft against the dusty floor.

Outside, the world was silent — the night wrapping around the studio like an old velvet curtain.

Jeeny: (gently) “John Hughes once said, *‘I so desperately hate to end these movies that the first thing I do when I'm done is write another one. Then I don't feel sad about having to leave and everybody going away. That's why I