A PLAY
WITHIN A PLAY
Paul: You want to talk. Is that it? I don’t talk enough? I don’t express my feelings?
Joanne,
I'm quiet.
What was it ten one hundred one thousand years ago?
I didn’t break, I didn't lean on crutches, what I did is I got up every morning and I went to work.
On Sundays, I went to church for appearances. I never prayed. That son of a bastard took everything from me and left me here to rot.
I won’t. I won't give him the satisfaction. I'd rather burn then rot.
Why are you here, Joanne?
Hard. (pounding his left chest)
You're looking for something that doesn’t exist. I don't feel.
It pumps blood that's it.
No tears, no regrets.
I think you better leave now.
Nothing.
I’m sorry!
written by
armandhamouth
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