JOHN: That proves nothing. And I’m not even sure how true it is. But, anyway, Jennifer gave me the attention and care that I desperately needed, according to her. It may have gotten intimate, in some sense. There was a sort of humanness, in the air. And, we might have made tacos, I really don’t remember. (The light goes off. They’re in total darkness) Stay still. I know how to handle this . . . (Brief pause. The light comes on and John is now standing on the other side of Bob) I was on the other side of you, before.

BOB: I know.

JOHN: That was wild. Okay, I’m going inside.

BOB: No, can you stay? I thought maybe we could talk.

JOHN (Brief pause as he waits, as if this is something that will be decided by the night sky): Yeah, guess not.

BOB: Okay.

JOHN (Brief pause): Good sleeping weather.

BOB: It is. Pony said you sometimes get really sweaty or cold at night.

JOHN: I try to live life to the fullest.

BOB: Just, I get that, sometimes.

JOHN: So?

BOB: I was wondering what you do about it.

JOHN: I sweat, or I start shivering. That usually seems to take care of it.

BOB: Yeah. (Brief pause) How’s her greeting card thing going?

JOHN: “Her”?

BOB: Pony.

JOHN: I know. Look at the sky. (Bob joins John in looking up) No, I’m looking at this part. You look over there.

BOB (Brief pause): It’s nice. I like my part I’m looking at.

JOHN (The light goes off): The darkness thickens.

BOB: Yeah.

JOHN: Don’t move. (He makes a quick gesture and the light comes back on) You moved.

BOB: You moved.

JOHN: Let’s not fight about who moved. (Brief pause. Quiet moment of pain. He rubs his temples) God. Augghh.

BOB: What?

JOHN: Nothing. Ice cream headache.

BOB: Did you just have ice cream?

JOHN: I wish.

BOB: I get those.

JOHN: Wow, we suffer a lot of the same things. High-five. (He makes no effort to give or receive a high-five) Ice cream is a dish best served cold.

BOB: Yeah. We switched over to a product made from almond milk. (Brief pause) We kind of stopped talking, me and Jennifer. I mean, we talk.

JOHN: People talk about things, or they don’t. It doesn’t really matter, the things will have their day, the things will rise again. (He waves or moves, so that the light stays on)

BOB: I get what you’re saying.

JOHN: You don’t get what I’m saying. Not your fault. Words don’t really do it for me anymore, anyway. It’s all just bodies and light. People say it’s death and taxes, which, of course, are great, but, no, it’s bodies and light. Appearance, disappearance, that’s the whole thing. Do you know what a clystophoma is?

BOB: No, what is it?