[Curtain rises] 

[SCENE: A treeline at sunset. the trees are left as black silhouettes against an iridescent sunset. Cicadas hum in the background. Windchimes crash together. YOU sit, facing the trees, back to the audience, also a silhouette. You are still. You are so still that the audience thinks you are a statue at first. The bugs and windchimes build to a cacophony of noise. Everything goes silent. I enter, stage left.] 

  

YOU: I didn’t want you here. You knew I didn’t want you here, but you came for me anyway. 

Why do you always chase the things you aren’t able to get? Me, the wind, the camera-flashes and the hum of neons? 

Why can’t you just accept things for a second, breathe, and go find someone else to hold hands with? 

 

[YOU turn sharply to me. YOU look at the ground beneath my feet, then my face.] 

 

YOU: It’s finished. It’s finished and you should have known that when we stopped seeing the same sky. 

It’s finished and you should have known when my tears stopped sinking in to your shirt. 

It’s finished and it has been finished and I don’t know how to stop missing you, but I know I can’t keep letting you do this to me. 

 

[Silence. I take a breath. The sky brightens into overly saturated colors, there is a hum like a fluorescent light.] 

 

YOU: Well? 

 

[I open my mouth to speak. Curtain falls.]