a scene from a developing play in which each line contains 4 words (an exploration of brevity)
FEBONE
Why are you here?
MAN
I followed your crumbs.
FEBONE
You should have written.
MAN
There was no address.
FEBONE
Should have rung then.
MAN
No number to ring.
FEBONE
I left a note.
MAN
The dog ate it.
FEBONE
I made myself clear.
MAN
Devoured the whole thing.
FEBONE
Just me. Here. Alone.
MAN
Your timing is reckless.
FEBONE
You’re blaming the dog.
MAN
This city is dangerous.
I mean really, Febone.
Do you even think?
FEBONE
Naturally you’re underestimating me.
MAN
The hotels are closing.
The trains are down.
They’re shutting off power.
All the restaurants, closed.
How will you eat?
And what about sleep?
FEBONE
There is no sleep.
MAN
This is peak punishment?
Have you met someone?
I need to understand.
We have a life.
FEBONE
Had. Tried to have.
MAN
What are you saying?
Everyone is leaving now.
And you’re committing suicide.
This is heavy pathetic.
You and your loneliness.
And your disgusting journal.
That I gave you.
Probably empty, isn’t it?
You’ve nothing to say?
FEBONE
What do you expect?
You want a monologue?
You want me panting?
I won’t do it.
MAN
You’ve become so terse.
FEBONE
Glass in my throat.
MAN
I understand it now.
But could you just?
Look here a second.
Look at me, Fe.
Good baby, now listen.
We all miss you.
Your daughter misses you.
My parents are worried.
Your parents are worried.
Sick to their stomachs.
And neighbors are asking.
They’re asking, “Where’s Febone?”
“Her flowers need watering.”
“Her packages stopped coming.”
“Her car hasn’t moved.”
MAN
Come home with me.
I can’t sleep alone.
FEBONE
Then have an affair.
I have to go.