What the Tax Form Doesn't Ask
- Peter K F Cheung SBS

- Jun 3
- 3 min read
FADE IN
Act 1
INT. LIVING ROOM - 08:30
Morning light. PETER sits alone at a desk. Stacks of receipts. A tax return form. A calculator. A pen.
PETER (V.O.): I've been filing tax returns for many many years.
He picks up a receipt. Examines it. Sets it down.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Same boxes. Same columns. Same arithmetic. Rents. Pension. Profits. Deductions. Sign here. Date there. Send it off. Wait for next year.
Peter fills a few blanks on the form. Small motions.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): The year always comes. Whether I'm ready or not. The numbers go where they always go.
He sets the pen down.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): But this year, I feel the meaninglessness in continuing my business. The continuing being the poison.
He stands. Picks up the car key and leaves home with his WIFE.
Act 2
EXT - PUBLIC HOSPITAL - 11:05
Peter's wife steps out of the car.
PETER: WhatsApp me when you're done. I'll be at Deep Water Bay.
EXT. DEEP WATER BAY - 11: 30
Peter stands in water's edge. Swimsuit. Some BEACHGOERS. Sunbathing. He watches them.
PETER (V.O.): Some are in their 20s, 30s. or 40s. They lie on the sand like they've all the time in the world.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): They do. Or they think they do. Same thing at that age.
He wades into the water.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I could only afford to do this after retirement. At 60 - 12 years ago.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Before that my job was never done.
He swims. Slowly. Easily.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Now, I swim daily in Hong Kong bays, unless there're thunderstorms or I'm doing my monthly travels.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): However, I still work in retirement. But after my last court appearance, I started asking what is the goal for the work that I still do?
Later, he rests by his car. Checks his phone.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): My wife hasn't sent me any message...is everything okay with her?
He sends a message. Stands. Paces. Checks again. Nothing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): I'm very worried.
Then, he sees a response: All good. Just running late. Pick me up in 20 minutes.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): At 60, I thought retirement meant freedom from work. At 72, I know: retirement means freedom from waiting. From worrying.
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): That's the real tax. Not the one the government collects. The one time collects. From everyone.
EXT. PUBLIC HOSPITAL - LATER
Peter picks up his wife. She gets in the car. Smiles.
WIFE: Told you. Routine.
PETER: I still worry.
PETER (V.O.): Worrying isn't a disease. Worrying is a symptom. The disease is caring. And I still care. About her. About the days. About the ones we have left.
He drives home. Relaxed.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): The worry is gone. Gone for now. But it lives here. In every appointment we write on the calendar. The worry has a key.
INT. LIVING ROOM - 14: 45
Peter sits at the desk again. The tax return is still there. Half-finished. He looks at the receipts. At the calculator.
PETER (V.O.): What is a day worth when I've more money than days?
Pausing.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): Divide what I earned by the weeks. By the days. By the hours of lost sleep...
He pushes away the calculator.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): A day is worth nothing in money terms. Because I can't buy it back. I can only spend it. And I've been spending mine on matters that I don't want to do.
Act 3
INT. LIVING ROOM - 20:00
Peter uploads an image to a draft on his laptop. It shows a close-up of a green HKIRD envelope with a partially visible tax form that doesn't ask whether Peter is happy.
PETER (V.O.): The tax form asks for my income, my pension, my profits, my deductions and my signature. It never asks: How many days did you trade for this number? Was it a fair exchange?
Thinking.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): It has no box for lost sleep. It doesn't ask: Are you still working for money that you don't need? And if so: Why?
Reflecting.
PETER (V.O.) (Cont'd): What the tax form doesn't ask: what did you lose that isn't deductible. It doesn't ask: How much is enough? And it certainly doesn't ask: How many healthy years do you have left?
The END
FADE OUT



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