My Festival Director’s note in the program:

By a remarkable coincidence, almost all the plays have torn newspaper on the floor and a dance break.

There are no doors, beds, or couches.

I’m particularly proud of that last thing.

From the next-to-last draft of Pagan Play, before we fixed it.

A restroom in heaven.

HE
I’ve lost my nerve.

SHE
I’m not unsympathetic, but–

HE
This is it. I’ll be here forever. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t here.

SHE
It’ll pass.

HE
Not here. Not now. I’ve lost all optimisim in the situation.

SHE
Shall I go without you?

HE
I suppose.

SHE
The hors d’oeuvres are getting cold, you know.

HE
I know.

SHE
People will talk.

HE
If you must.

SHE
I’ll miss you.

HE
Give them my regards.

SHE
I will. Shall I give Teddy your love?

HE
Yes. Give him that.

SHE
And Rhonda? Shall I kiss her on the cheek for you?

HE
Like in Paris, yes.

SHE
And your mother?

HE
She’s here?

SHE
She’s asking for you.

HE
This is mortifying. I can’t leave now.

SHE
You must try. Everyone’s waiting.

HE
I can’t.

SHE
Make a solid effort.

HE
I can see no good end to this.

SHE
Think of waterfalls. Think of the Seine.

HE
It’s hard.

SHE
It’s hard?

HE
I mean it’s difficult.

SHE
You must let go.

HE
I’m trying.

SHE
I love you.

HE
I love you too.