Two chairs. Two people.
The Guy and his Uncertain Future. They contemplate each other for a
really
long
time.
Then:
THE GUY
Here we are.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Yes. Here we are.
THE GUY
You’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
No, you’re staring.
THE GUY
Because you’re staring.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
Oh.
No one stops staring.
THE GUY
This is stupid.
Things are unknowable. That’s what’s certain.
You, on the other hand, are not.
Certain.
By design.
But things.
Things. Capital T Things.
Are deeply and irrevocably unknowable.
So what can I do? Really?
I mean, there’s nothing really that I can do.
Except wait.
Wait.
Because I can’t undo. I can’t correct.
I can’t begin again without what’s come already.
So what can I do?
But wait.
I can wait.
UNCERTAIN FUTURE
And talk.
Apparently.
Silence.
The Guy opens his hands, palms up, fingers spread.
THE GUY
Things leave marks.
You have left marks on me.
Not like scars.
Not like that.
Imprints. Hands in mud. Like that.
He closes his hands. Confidently:
THE GUY
I can wait.
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2 comments:
hands in mud...
that resonates.
I think my perception of the future also paralyzes me when I try to make decisions in the present. The hand metaphor is something I think about too. I see the palm as the present, and each finger as a possible future, but there are so many Things, and not enough fingers...and not enough time.
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