Tuesday, April 11, 2006

first draft of a new scene for tuesday

(Bedroom. Night. JAKE snores in bed. ELISE is partially dressed.)

ELISE I could stay. I could stay. Oh, but the light and the heat and the smell, oh the smell. But I could stay. He has smells. He has heat. He has other fine attributes.

The light. The sound of a scraping match. Acetone. Gasoline. Kerosene. The dripping. The pain in the eyes. The light. The heat. The billows of smoke. We have too many buildings, don’t you think? Too many construction sites, empty warehouses, all so much fuel. It’s a service to take away these extra dangerous buildings. They are in the way, they are dry and cracked and falling down and they need a good match, a good flame a cleansing of the palate, a cleansing of the city.

But I could stay and climb into his arms and breathe his foul comfort of a breath. I could cling to his beliefs in right and wrong and the law. I could warm myself on his broad back, lick the back of his neck, put my small hand around his trigger finger.

But there’s the light. There’s the heat. There is love and there is love and there are things that I need. And I . . .

(ELISE starts to leave, stops, kisses him on the forehead.)

ELISE Good night.

(JAKE stops snoring. ELISE exits.)

JAKE Elise?

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