— You're not a stalker or anything, right?
— I'm not a stalker. You're the one that talked to me. Remember?
— That is the oldest trick in the stalker book.
— Really? There's a stalker book? Okay. I gotta read that one.
So what if you take me somewhere else, somewhere where I don't belong, and we hide there till morning?
— You don't tell me things, Joel. I'm an open book. I tell you everything. Every damn embarrassing thing. You don't trust me.
— You don't have to be afraid of silence, Clementine. Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.
— I don't do that. I want to know you. I don't constantly talk. Jesus. People have to share things. That's what intimacy is. I'm really pissed that you said that to me.
— I'm sorry. I just don't have anything very interesting about my life.
— I don't know. Just wait. Just wait.
— What do you want, Joel?
— I don't know. I want you to wait for... just a while.
Sand is overrated. It's just tiny little rocks.
Please let me keep this memory. Just this one. <...> I wanna call it off. I'll give you a sign. I wanna call it off! Can you hear me? I don't want this anymore!
Oh, man. I can't remember anything without you.
— How did I look?
— Happy. Happy with a secret.
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