(Kimble enters an all-night diner with newspaper and sits at a table)
Another dreary town, another shabby street. Another weary pause on Richard Kimble's search for the man with one arm, his only real hope for escaping a life of fear.
(A waitress approaches Kimble)
A...bowl of soup, any kind.
(as Kimble opens the paper) No front page. Richard Kimble turns directly to the classified section. Here are the things that really matter. A room. A job. A way to stay alive, and tonight, something else:
(Kimble stops on a specific page and the viewer sees what he is reading)
"Personal to R.K. Have information regarding September 17th. Phone me at home. Urgent. E.B." The 17th was the night Kimble's wife was murdered.
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