>his home<
[a slow rhythm of footsteps along the corridor
a cigarette in one hand, her bag in the other.
she walks towards the end. to a door.
smokes a final puff, and butts the ciggie in a pot of plants.]
[she stands silent for eleven seconds.
to muster the courage
and turns the door knob.]
[the house is silent.]
[she sees a painting on an otherwise empty black wall.
a figuration of a woman.
and on the floor against that wall
incense sticks. burning.]
[she walks in. and heads to the bedroom]
[there he lies on the bed. as if he was dead.
motionless.
his back facing the entrance.]
"hi. it's me"
[no reaction. he remains motionless]
"it's 6 pm. and i can't be here very long."
"but i brought you ... a gift."
[she smiles. takes 'the gift' out of her bag and shakes it.]
"i'm putting this on the table. okay?"
[she places 'the gift' on a side table adjacent to the bed. her eyes well up.]
[she puts her bag on the floor. and then gets on the bed.
and hugs him from behind. a longing hug.
she cries. and he cries along]
[she wipes his tears off his face.
and whispers something into his ears. for a whole minute.]
"i need to go"
[he turns around and hugs her]
"okay. do you need anything?"
"no, i'm good."
[he lifts her up from the bed. hugging her all the way to the other side of the room.]
"take care."
"you too."
[a goodbye]
>her home<
[she stands in front of her own door.
she no longer cries.
but sadness never left her face.]
[she looks for her keys in her bag
and finds 'the gift'.
returned.]
