A meteor flies in the sky and hits a truck in street. Rosé, wearing an Alex Perry dress, sits at the vanity while a chandelier crashes onto the floor. She tosses a rose as she walks. In black-and-white, she lies on a couch.
At night, she stare at the ground, while walking out of the theater in a David Koma dress. She looks at the hanging lights and sits on the silver railing. Lit in white, she spreads out her arms in a Cong Tri bodysuit. She stands against a monochrome egg background.
Sparks go off around her as touches her hair. Wearing a Bridal Kong bodysuit and Haleia skirt, she runs past the electrical wires. Wearing a Jean Paul Gaultier gown, she leans against a car and sits in the backseat as someone drives her. In a Re/Done shirt, she stands by an electronic store. She and several twentysomething stand on a staircase, which reads “Roses are Dead. Love Is Fake” on the bottom.
She dances under the theater marquee. A second meteorite hits it as she walks away. While the theater burns, she swings. Another version of herself throws roses off the second story of the venue. She picks up the roses from the ground. The second version of herself plays the piano while she looks on. Sitting at the vanity, the second version of herself writes her name in white on the mirror and rests her head.
In a field of roses, she rises above in a Haleia gown. She continues to walk past by the burning car.
Another meteorite was expected to fall tonight. A warning beeps on her phone. Rosé roams by the movie theater. She walks into it and grabs some popcorn behind the concession stand. Sitting in the seats, she eats the popcorn and sips her drink. She thinks of her favorite scenes from movies. Running to the front, she performs a dance. The ground rumbles beneath her and she balances herself.
She opens the fire exit and sees part of the block enveloped in smoke and fire. Turning around, she runs back to the front. There had to be time. It couldn’t be her last night on Earth. Hand on her chest, she takes a deep breath as she stands by the electronics store. She texts her family and friends. They had to be okay.
A thirtysomething man urges her to get in his car. He shouts for her to get out of the area. She sits in the backseat, going over her mistakes. She should’ve contacted her friends more often. Only one friend responded and told her she was okay. The thirtysomething man passes her neighborhood and she says nothing. She just wanted sit with someone who didn’t want anything from her.
Director: N/A Year: 2021