FADE IN:
EXT. STREET -- DAY
Normal day, normal town, normal street.  Well, maybe we're in a slightly upmarket area - the houses are older and bigger here.  
A mailman on a motorcycle is riding down the sidewalk.  This is James.  The guy is maybe 40 years old and in okay shape for someone who doesn't work out.  He puts packets of mail into mailboxes with the ease of long practice as he travels.
James pulls up outside a house with an impressive fence, turns off the bike and removes his helmet.  He takes a box and an electronic signature pad out of his satchel and goes to the gate.  A big dog appears, barking.  James is unfazed.  After a few seconds, the dog quiets.
JAMES
Hello, Tosca.
Tosca wags his tail.  James pats the dog's head.  Clearly they are old friends.  James lets himself in.  He sees a patch of blood on Tosca's side and kneels to have a look.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Your mother been mistreating you, boy?
James looks around, noting the holes dug all over the yard.
JAMES (CONT'D)
You shouldn't provoke her.
James climbs the impressive stairs to the house.  The screen door is shut, but the inner door is ajar.  The door looks onto a hallway.  He rings the doorbell.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Mrs Casey?  I've got your mail, ma'am.
No response.  He knocks on the door.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Mrs Casey?  You got another package, ma'am.  I need a signature.
Tosca is pushing to get in the door.  James pushes him away and goes to the window.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Take it easy, Tosca.  Mrs Casey?  Everything okay, ma'am?
James looks in the window to the front sitting room.  He sees something and shades his eyes against the glare for a better look.  An old woman is lying on the floor. 
JAMES (CONT'D)
Oh, shit!  Mrs Casey?
He goes to the screen door and tries the handle.  It is unlocked.  James hesitates.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Mrs Casey, if you can hear me, I'm just coming in to check if you're okay.  All right?
No response.  James opens the door and enters.
INT. SITTING ROOM -- DAY
This is a spacious old-style room, with old style furniture.  There is a wood fireplace.  A table and chairs stand on the near side of the room.  On the other side, a couch sits against a wall with a coffee table for accompaniment.  At the far end of the coffee table is a large comfortable armchair,  which is clearly Mrs Casey's favourite spot.  There is another armchair on the hallway side of the coffee table.  A knife and the remains of a sandwich sit on the coffee table.  The room, like the house, reflects an owner that has a lot of money. 
Mrs Casey is lying on the floor near her chair.  She is about 70 years old.  Her clothes are neat around-the-house wear that were once expensive fashion.  There is a pool of blood on the floor under her head.
James hurries across the room, dropping his parcel and electronic signature pad on the coffee table on the way.  He kneels near Mrs Casey.  She's not breathing.  James hesitates.  He reaches for a pulse.
MAN
Who are you?
James jumps up, guiltily.  A man is standing in the doorway.  This man is about 25 years old.  His clothes are as sharp as you can get shopping at Target.
JAMES
Mailman.  I just came in to see if she was okay.  Have you called an ambulance?
MAN
The phone isn't working.  Do you have a cellphone?
JAMES
Sure.
James gets out his cellphone and passes it across.  The man takes it, looks at it almost curiously and hefts it in his hand a couple of times, as if to test the weight.  He doesn't do anything else.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Hey, are you okay?  You seem kind of shell-shocked.
James is a bit shell-shocked himself.  
MAN
What's your name?
JAMES
(re: Mrs Casey)
Shouldn't you...
MAN
Too late.  What's your name?
JAMES
Uh... James.
MAN
James.
(recognition)
Sure, she mentioned you once or twice.  You're the guy who always brings her mail up to the door.  Saves her walking down to the gate. 
JAMES
Excuse me for asking, but who are you?
MAN
Conrad.  I'm her no-good grandson.  That's what she used to call me, anyway.
Conrad (as we will now call him) waves James to a seat on the couch.  James is hesitant, but sits.
JAMES
I'm sorry.
Conrad shrugs it off.  
CONRAD
Did you spend a lot of time with my grandmother?
JAMES
No.  We hardly ever talked, actually.
CONRAD
Yeah, I know the feeling.  How did you know her?
JAMES
She orders... she used to order a lot of stuff through the mail.  She didn't get out much.
CONRAD
How do you know she never went out?
JAMES
Well, my wife is a physical therapist.  She comes around once a week to help Mrs Casey with her leg.
CONRAD
No kidding?  Wow, what a weird coincidence.  Her having a patient right on your delivery run.
JAMES
That's why she brought it up.  My wife, I mean.  She knew I delivered on this street and mentioned she was working with this ornery old lady who...
James didn't intend for that to get out.
JAMES (CONT'D)
I mean... I'm sorry.
CONRAD
No, that's okay.  She was an ornery old bitch, all right.  Stubborn as hell.  She should have gone into a home when she did her leg in, but she refused to move out of this place.  Said she'd rather die here than live in a piece-of-shit shoebox.  Well, she did that, all right.
JAMES
I'm sorry.  Look, about my cellphone...
Conrad remembers the cellphone in his hand, then puts it in his pocket.  He sits on the armchair, picking up a fireplace poker that has been lying unnoticed on the cushion all this time.
CONRAD
Are you happy?
JAMES
...what?
CONRAD
Did you always want to be a mailman?  Or did you settle?  Was there something else that you really wanted to do when you were younger?
JAMES
Look, I don't understand...
CONRAD
I mean, a lot of kids have dreams they have to leave behind when they grow up.  Maybe they want to be an astronaut, or a lawyer, or a veterinarian.  Well, maybe not a vet.  What kind of idiot wants to work with animals?  Stupid, slobbering, barking pieces of shit.
This guy is starting to freak James out.  It's like he's forgotten there's anyone else here. 
CONRAD (CONT'D)
The point is, sometimes there are barriers to what we want.  And when you're faced with a barrier like that you can either accept that you're not going to achieve what you want to achieve, or you can do something about it.
Conrad has started to pick at the end of the poker.  He is absent-mindedly pulling off strands of hair that are stuck to the end.
CONRAD (CONT'D)
What I'm asking is, what kind of guy are you?  Did you settle?  Or did you take on the barrier and fail?
JAMES
What the hell is going on here?
CONRAD
I'll tell you, James.  You're not happy.  You're a mailman, you make shit money.  You recently had a fight with your wife.  Didn't seem too serious, but it really got under your skin.  Probably about money, wasn't it?  You don't earn enough to do the things you want to.  Her low-pay job is no help.  Mid-life crisis is kicking in.  You're looking at the past 20 years and wondering why you settled for this dull, pointless life.  And you start thinking about old Mrs Casey that your wife told you about.  She's a self-centred bitch who has more money than she needs.  You start delivering her mail to the door, so nobody will think twice if they see you walk up the stairs.  The old cow has to have cash in the house.  At worst, there must be some jewelry you can take.  You force your way in but the stubborn old bat puts up a fight.  You grab the nearest object...
Conrad holds up the poker.
CONRAD (CONT'D)
And whack!  She's down.  Poor old lady never had a chance.  But it's not your day, James.  Her grandson happens to visit and catches you in the act.  You struggle, but he's younger and stronger.  He wrestles the poker from you, getting his DNA on it in the process.  Then, in self-defence...
James leaps up but Conrad is quicker.  They struggle.  Conrad can't free his arm for a decent swing.  They kick, headbutt, trade blows back and forth.  Among the general mayhem, the coffee table is upset and the mail package gets trod underfoot.  Conrad manages to throw James to the floor but isn't quick enough to capitalize.  James manages to put the armchair between them.  He can't get past Conrad to the door, but Conrad can't get around the armchair to deliver the fatal blow.
CONRAD (CONT'D)
Nowhere to go, mailman.
JAMES
You're crazy!  You're a goddamn psycho!
CONRAD
I'm shocked and temporarily mentally incapacitated, which accounts for my accidental overuse of force.
JAMES
This is nuts!  The police aren't going to be taken in by this crap!
CONRAD
Why not?  She may be cantankerous but she's family.  She paid for my schooling and my college tuition to give me the best start possible.  And she gave me backbone by making sure I didn't get a single dollar I didn't earn for myself since.  I love my grandmother. Honest to God, officer, when I saw her body on the floor I just lost control.
JAMES
They won't believe you.
CONRAD
It's all in the delivery. 
JAMES
The guys at the post office are never gonna believe this.  My wife will never believe it.
CONRAD
There'll be doubt.  It might be reasonable, but it's still doubt.  There won't be any witnesses to contradict me.
MRS CASEY
(weakly)
Bastard...
Two heads whip around at the sound.  Mrs Casey is struggling to get up on her elbows.  She's bloody and disoriented, but the stubborn old bitch looks for all the world like she's going to kick both their asses.
James takes advantage of the distraction to run for the door.  Conrad is too slow this time and, realizing that James is out of reach, makes only a half-hearted attempt to follow.  James looks back from the doorway as Conrad glares after him impotently.
MRS CASEY (CONT'D)
Goddamn bastard...
Conrad looks at Mrs Casey.  Looks back at James.  Smiles.  Hefts the poker and turns toward the old lady.
James has a sudden "oh shit" moment.  If he saves himself, Mrs Casey is a goner.  What's he going to do?
James launches himself at Conrad and the two of them go at it all over again.  It's brutal and bloody but indecisive.  Conrad finally lands a decent blow that sends James skidding across the floor.  Before he can follow up, though, he is attacked from behind.
Mrs Casey has managed to crawl to the knife from her half-eaten lunch and stab Conrad in the calf.  Conrad screams in pain, then kicks her in the guts and pulls the knife.
CONRAD
Hard heart, hard head.  I should have known a stubborn bitch like you would need more than one blow. 
James hits Conrad over the head with a chair.  Conrad is out cold.
JAMES
It's all in the delivery.
James drops the chair and limps to Mrs Casey.
JAMES (CONT'D)
Are you all right, Mrs Casey?
MRS CASEY
Do I look all right, asshole?  
James gets Mrs Casey into her armchair, then sinks into the couch.  They pause, gathering themselves.
MRS CASEY (CONT'D)
Well, what they hell do you want?  A medal?
JAMES
No, ma'am.
(picks up the signature pad)
A signature.  You've got a package.
Mrs Casey thinks this is pretty damn funny.  James can see the humour in the situation, too.  Shame it hurts so much to laugh. 
MRS CASEY
You're a single-minded son of a bitch, aren't you?
JAMES
You too, ma'am.
MRS CASEY
...Thanks.
JAMES
No problem, Mrs Casey.
MRS CASEY
So, what are you?  Ex-SEAL?  Ranger?
JAMES
No, ma'am.  US postal service.  We deliver. 
MRS CASEY
I'm not signing for that.  It's damaged.
FADE OUT: