James: (VO) Welcome to the World at Small.
Arcadia: (VO) World at Small?
Flashback - James's Studio (WaS)
Scene: bathed in golden light of flashbackiness, the studio opens by french doors and has scattered art things about, with long counter-cabinets and a small library with plush chairs in the corner. Hardwood floors and a higher, open, factory-esque ceiling with hanging lamps.
James: (in front, 1st person view - Arcadia. Steps back, hair up in a clip and glasses on, smiling) Yeah, World at Small. WaS, I like to say sometimes.
View shifts, circling onto and with Arcadia, who walks to the closest counter looking uninterested/skeptical.
Arcadia: Yeah, but what's it mean? (begins inspecting a paintbrush)
James: (grins wider and steps over to a canvas, showing the logo - a world in a cage wrapped by a ribbon that says "World at Small" on it) Well, if the World at Large is free, the World at Small is captive. (sighs, undertoning 'like me' as he puts canvas back)
View shifts to a full-body of Arcadia. Arcadia Severens is short, female, and slightly overweight, wearing army boots, camo pants and a sweatshirt. She's pale with rose cheeks and long frizzy, poufed-up brown hair. Bright blue almost violet eyes are half-lidded, an eyebrow raised.
Arcadia: Oh yeah? I caught that last part. (turns back to look at the counter. Notices a blue-and-black retro ball-and-rod clock above the French doors.) Nice clock.
View shifts back to from the doors' perspective looking down across the length of the studio to the large window in the back, making note of the two stairs leading down into the studio.
James: (moving to Arcadia)I knew you would, and thanks. (sighs, leaning with back to camera against the counter)
Arcadia: (wry, rare smile, looks at James briefly) Ohsure. (yes, said as one word)
Flash forward, back in graveyard
James: (still sketching, sighs and, standing, accidentally knocks over the can of soda beside him) Oh - sh- (Trying to save it, the phone rings and he is torn by both activities) Ah - (grabs phone from a pocket, answers it and saves the can) 'Lo? (A faint, angry sound comes from the phone.) Hi, Dad. What? (more angry sounds) N-no, I'm in - (interrupted, sighs) Yessir. (flicking the phone closed, he sighs again, gathering his things)
James: (VO)Welcome... to my World at Small. (View swings to the sky and the barren November trees above) It doesn't seem like much, I know. But then... glassed-in snowglobe-worlds never do.