GATTACA by Andrew M. Niccol - The Script Source

75.
In the darkness she dashes from the car and, without a second
thought, runs directly out into the heavy commuter traffic.
Easily negotiating the on-coming cars, she emerges safely on
the other side of the highway.
JEROME, rounding the car from the passenger side, is about to
follow, when he suddenly pulls up sharply at the curb. We
focus on his eyes, deprived of the benefit of their contact
lenses. From Jerome's POV, we see that the headlights rushing
towards him are nothing but a series of fast-moving blurs -
blurs that merge together. He is unable to distinguish
between the vehicles or judge their distance.
IRENE
(calling back
urgently from the
other side, mindful
of the light
beginning to leak
into the sky)
Come on! We'll miss it!
Irene stares expectantly back at Jerome with her 20/20
vision, unaware of his predicament. Jerome puts a foot off
the curb at the wrong moment and is almost collected by an on-
coming car. Irene is taken-aback at his mistiming. Does she
detect a squint on Jerome's face? To Jerome, the figure of
Irene on the other side of the highway is merely a
featureless shape but he feels her expectation. He touches
the spectacles, still in his pocket, but they are an
unthinkable option.
He shakes the idea from his head and turns back to the
swiftly-flowing highway. He makes up his mind - he cannot
allow himself to be shamed, even at the risk of life and
limb. Hardly even glancing at the traffic, he suddenly bolts
blindly across the road. Headlights hurtling towards him,
cars fortuitously brushing past his heels, horns blaring.
Jerome makes a final leap to the haven of the far curb, the
rush of air from a large, fast-moving truck blowing him the
final inches to the sidewalk.
Irene is stunned by the near miss. She is about to comment
but Jerome takes her by the arm and ushers her towards the
dunes.
JEROME
Come on. We'll miss it.