sorrow is a bad habit
a ten minute play study on dialogue (2023)
A bare stage. Two people sit. They may face each other. They don’t have to. They wear simple clothing. The sound of birds.
Tell me what you see. When you look at me.
When I look at you?
Yeah. What you see when you look at me.
Uh…I don’t…
Quickly. First thought.
Your lips.
My lips.
They’re chapped.
Oh.
Sorry. Did you not want me to mention that?
It’s fine. You answered my question. That’s what I wanted.
Sorry.
I said it’s fine. Ask me one.
When I leave, will you follow me?
Horrible question.
Answer.
My lips are chapped.
Em—
Don’t.
You never answer my questions. It’s not fair.
I don’t like the questions.
I don’t like yours. But I answer them.
Guess that means you’re weak.
I guess.
I’m mean.
Kinda, yeah.
Sorry. It’s hot.
Want some water? I have a bottle in my bag.
No, thanks. Do you have any chapstick?
No. Sorry.
S’fine.
Y’know, I’ve been having my running dreams again.
Oh?
Yeah. And they’ve gotten more annoying. Last night, I dreamt I was supposed to give a big speech and it was raining. And for some reason, I ran, well, wobbled because something was wrong with my knee, and slipped in mud. So then, I had to hobble around looking for another shirt and then I hear my name called and then my mom texts me “answer” and just as I’m about to go back, I wake up.
Sounds frustrating.
It was. I’m sure it’s just that thing about being back home and feeling stuck. And having to depend on my mom again.
Well you only have like two weeks left, right? And you can go back and be your most perfect self.
Don’t splash. You sound bitter.
I’m not.
You’re not fooling me.
Not everything I do revolves around you.
Sure it does. That’s why you invited me here.
I invited you because I could use the company. Don’t try to make something bigger out of this.
Didn’t mean to offend. I’m just saying, you’re transparent.
So are you. But I don’t go around parading facts.
It’s not really parading when it’s just the two of us.
I guess. I don’t want you to leave. It’s lonely here.
I—
And spare me the: “Oh, I don’t wanna leave either.” You don’t have to lie. It sucks here, I know. I don’t blame you for going.
You could always come with me.
You know I can’t.
I know that you think you can’t.
Hm.
We don’t have to talk about it anymore.
Good.
You’re so stubborn.
I know. I’ve got it in my head that I’ll move to Italy. Kinda like Call Me By Your Name. I’ve always liked that aesthetic. And the book wasn’t too boring. I think I could live like that. Swimming all day. Masturbating with a peach—
Apricot.
Apricot. And riding my bike into town, reading philosophy and speaking French and Italian interchangeably. It sounds nice.
You’d get bored in a week.
I know. But it’s nice to dream. God…can I put my head on your shoulder? You smell nice. New soap?
Nope. The same.
I think my allergies are acting up again. With the summer. The fucking summer. I can’t stand it.
I like the summer. I get to see you.
Thank God it’s too hot for me to blush. I think I’d combust.
Then that’s my goal before I leave. Make you combust.
That sounds sexual.
It could be. If you want it to be.
Eh…I don’t know. I may be too tired.
We can shelve that thought and just sit. You can splash if you want. It’s nice on my calves.
That’s why I did it.
Wanna watch a movie later?
What movie? If it’s a comedy, it must be anything with Adam Sandler. If it’s a drama, Wes Anderson.
Uncut Gems?
Not a comedy. But…Adam Sandler. And I’ve never seen it. Yes. I choose that one. Of my own volition.
How’s 8?
8’s fine. I’m not doing anything.
Ok good. Thought I’d ask if you had plans.
Just day dreaming.
I wish I could do that.
You don’t. Stop trying to make me feel better.
Habit. Sorry.
Bigotry is a habit. You’re just feeling bad.
And you’re making a big deal out of nothing.
I always do.
They sit for a moment in silence. Birds chirp.
I’m sorry.
Another moment of silence. ONE clasps their hand with TWO’s, rubbing the knuckle.
Don’t be. Sorrow is a bad habit as well.
My latest:
Until next time,
Lauryn :)