Tommy

It is winter. The outskirts of Manchester are greyer than usual. TOMMY', 34, leaves the postal sorting office to begin his round. He is a quiet man. Introverted, painfully so. Mistaken as aloof, disinterested. Burdened by the baggage of a single childhood incident that has rendered his adulthood unfulfilled. It bestowed upon him the gift of anxiety as travelling companion. Had he ever travelled. A dog attack. A bad one. The morning run is as ever. The same faces in the same places offer the same phrases. Every damned day. Without fail. Tommy moves in silence from door to door. Christmas making long-buried memories resurface. He sees his Mother, his Father, his older brother as a child. Apparitions in the half-light of his mind. Then he sees it. A large shape held in the half-light. Tommy is still. Frozen. A dog. A bloody big dog. We flash to childhood. Bared fangs, screams. The dog moves, slow, then suddenly fast. Tommy turns and bolts. We are in a land between Hot Fuzz and Point Break. Mail flies. A shoe is lost but Tommy runs hard. Finding sanctuary in a child’s playhouse, heart racing. The dog stops. It sits, then lies down outside. We see the fateful day of the attack in flashbacks. How it took his brother. How the family crumbled to dust in its' wake. How he became the forgotten child. A father's suicide. A mother's illness and a son destined to repeat an ill-trodden path. Tear-stained, he makes an all or nothing burst from the playhouse, slips, face-plants. Done. He cowers, covering his head. Drool spills from the mouth of the dog. Tommy yells at the hound to, do it! A female voice, asking is he okay? Tommy glances as a long spittle-heavy tongue drags across his mud-encrusted face, he screams before retreating into surprised embarrassment. The dog’s tail wagging in friendship. Just beyond stands LINDA, 40, confused at the ragged postman who crawled from the playhouse. It is winter. One year has passed. The outskirts of Manchester are greyer than usual. Tommy leaves the postal sorting office to head home. He walks, head bowed. Avoiding eye contact with passers-by. Through a garden gate. Up a garden path. His key finds the lock, the door swings open. The house is silent. Linda appears from another room, cheerful. The dog moves into view. Tommy crouches low, he smiles. The following morning, Tommy, Linda and the hound leave. Driving into a new sunrise, the scene melting until there is only the car and the rising sun.