The stage is littered with actors.
They're all speaking and moving at once -- as they like to do in this play -- creating a frenetic mess of voice and movement.
The Guy is standing in the center of this, not moving, not really bothered by the swirl going on around him.
Someone appears -- The Best Friend.
THE BEST FRIEND
Hey.
THE GUY
What?
THE BEST FRIEND
HEY!
THE GUY
Oh... HEY! WHAT'S UP?
THE GUY
Sorry! Let me slow this down!
The Guy snaps his fingers, and the actors slow to voiceless slow motion movement.
THE BEST FRIEND
What are they doing?
THE GUY
Chattering about two things mostly. Writing and boys.
THE BEST FRIEND
That's pretty much all you ever chatter about... writing and boys.
THE GUY
I know. But it's because those two things never stay still. They're always moving. And they're loud, too. Demanding. Like little children. And the eye is drawn to the thing in motion. So...
THE BEST FRIEND
So...
THE GUY
So, that's why you're not in here more often.
THE BEST FRIEND
I know.
THE GUY
I write about the stuff that changes. The stuff that can't stay still.
You're a constant.
Something I can always rely on.
I like that about you.
THE BEST FRIEND
Thank you.
THE GUY
You're always here.
In the silences when I don't know what to say.
You're the thing that makes me know it's okay.
A silence in which he doesn't know what to say.
It's lovely.
The lights go down.
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