Wake up. I want you. I need you.
You're not my little wind up toy and I'm not a chart, or a statistic...and don't make fun of me...of my optimistic tendencies.
The words mix together and retire with a yawn to the bottom of the glass.
(One stands by the tank like a frozen meercat, hands retracted, eyes wide open watching as the prehistoric monsters glide back and forth in the water below. The other looks at the people a round the tank, but not at the creatures brushing against the skin of her own hand again and again, as it dangles in the water.)
" I can't move!" she cries "I'm not what I thought I was".
"I want to share everything with you", says the vodka soaked shark.
Bound and rusting, child of the sea and a good martini, she suddenly sees herself in those damn annoying silences.
UGH! It's so much easier to blame everyone else for everything.
"How did you loose that patch of skin on your nose?" He asks. "Playing catch with a pine cone" she says.
"WAKE UP!" He says.
"Only if you play with me" says she.