[INT. LIVING ROOM – EVENING]
The boyfriend, JOSH (19), sits nervously on the couch. The mother, DIANE (early 40s, lively and a bit eccentric), offers him a tray of snacks.
DIANE:
So… Josh. Tell me… are you the type of boy who breaks hearts? Or fixes them?
JOSH:
Uhh… I—I try not to break anything. Especially hearts.
DIANE:
(Smiling too wide) Mmm, good answer. You’re tall. I always told my daughter to date someone tall. Better genetics for future grandbabies.
JOSH:
(Laughs nervously) Oh, wow. That’s… early.
DIANE:
I like to plan ahead.
Her daughter, EMILY, walks in just in time, mortified.
EMILY:
Mom! Please don’t interrogate him like we’re on a weird cooking show.
DIANE:
(Playfully) I’m just getting to know the young man who might one day be folding laundry in your shared apartment.
JOSH:
No pressure…
DIANE:
Just remember—moms know things. We sense things. Don’t break her heart. Or I’ll bake you cookies that look like it… and then throw them at your car.
Awkward silence.
EMILY:
We’re going out now. Goodbye.
DIANE (calling after them):
Use protection! Sunscreen! I meant sunscreen!
