[Shane walks into a large exhibit that is a dazzling roomful of mirrors and softly glowing neon lights. Cherie is there. Shane quietly walks up behind her, her image reflecting a dozen times in the mirrors.]

Cherie: You heard him. He'll kill you.

Shane: (hesitant) You know... my entire life, people have said that... I would become a psychopath if I didn't learn how to feel.

[Cherie turns around and faces Shane.]

Shane: But I wanna know, Cherie, what the fuck is so great about feeling? Because I finally let myself. And I feel like my heart's been completely ripped out.

Cherie: I'm sorry.

Shane: I had this insane idea that you and I could be together. Because it felt real.

Cherie: It was a delusion.

Shane: Then I'm delusional. Because, I swear you felt the same way about me.

[Shane looks crushed. Even though Cherie speaks gently, her words sting.]

Cherie: What if I did? What difference would it make? What if, in the time we spent together, I felt more alive than I have in the last 20 years of my life? What if that were true? Do you think that I would leave my husband? My child, my... houses in Bel Air and East Hampton, my trips to Paris? My black tie galas?

Cherie: To run to some... rank little love nest, with a 25-year-old... assistant hairdresser... who barely has her foot in the door? (near tears) In this fucking ugly world, that kind of love does not exist.

[Shane stares at Cherie, wounded. After a moment, she walks away.]