THE SNOW QUEEN: I loved a man once. But somehow the man slipped away... and instead I loved the love... and nursed it like a babe. For two millenea I tenderly looked after my love: took it with me places, wrapped it up warm in the wintertime, pinched it if it grew too sleepy. But how can a child like that grow? It was a spoiled, pitiful, and stunted thing. Last month, I threw it away. This love, that was barely larger than my thumbnail... and too smooth and too soft from lifetimes of hiding, sheltered from the wind.

bedroom scene

It is a bright bedroom in the morningtime. The furniture is white, refined. A bright quilt messily covers the bed, underneath is a sprawled, sleeping person (TOM).

Enter MISSY, carrying a tray of breakfast food, carefully. She hesitates at the door, surveys the room. She goes to the window, adjusts the blinds just so, nudges a pile of clothes on the floor. Spying a bra on top, she with the tray, bends down and hangs it on a desk chair.

She crosses to the bed.

MISSY:

(a whisper)

Hey. Heeey.

TOM:

(Head emerging)

What.

MISSY:

(still whispering)

Baby cocooooon.

TOM:

What is that?

MISSY:

setting the tray in his lap.

Breakfast in bed.

TOM:

This is a baking sheet.

MISSY:

We dont have trays.

Tom wordlessly picks up a flower stuck

in a small vase of water. Looks at it, still sleepy.

MISSY:

With cheerful energy

AND!

Missy reaches in her sweater pocket,

and pulls at a new pack of cigarettes.

MISSY:

Tossing them to him.

For you.

TOM:

What?

Waking up more.

I can smoke.... now?

MISSY:

In bed.

TOM:

already peeling off the plastic

I can smoke in bed?

MISSY:

In bed.

Tom forgets the breakfast tray for a moment and lights a cigarette, setting back into the pillows. Missy, still standing, leans against the bed post, watching Tom.

MISSY:

Its just this once. And use an ashtray. That empty dish.

Tom exhales slowly and happily, and lets

the smoke curl fat and gray from his mouth.

TOM:

Smoking in bed is so nice.

Another drag, another exhale.

TOM:

closing his eyes.

It's so nice.

Missy holds out her hand.

MISSY:

Here.

TOM:

You want to...?

MISSY:

Yes.

Tom hands Missy the cigarette. She takes it and subtley tries to pose with it before taking the first drag. She coughs, she sputters, she tries once again to take another drag. In a second of chaos, Missy coughs again and accidently drops the cigarette on the bed quilt. She gasps, Tom jumps and pulls part of the quilt over the cigarette to put it out, knocking the baking sheet and food messily to the floor.

(beat.)

MISSY:

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

she mechanically paces.

MISSY:

Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

Tom rises fully out of bed, he is only in his boxers.

He follows her, doesnt touch her, except for maybe lightly, on the shoulders.

TOM:

Its okay, its okay. Its alright.

MISSY:

turning on him

I hate cigarettes.

TOM:

I know.

MISSY:

No. I'm mad.

TOM:

I know. But its not my fault.

MISSY:

Yes it is.

TOM:

Okay.

MISSY:

But its okay, this is our 'moment in the woods.'

TOM:

No its not.

MISSY:

Yes it is. We have a problem. I hate--

TOM:

I know, I know. But I dont think its a problem.

MISSY:

We have a problem whether you think we do or not.

TOM:

Thats not fair.

Its not a problem. I think that. Shouldn't that count for something?

MISSY:

You not thinking its a problem, is a problem.

I have to go to work.

TOM:

I'll clean this up.

MISSY:

I'm sorry about the mess.

TOM:

Its no one's fault.

MISSY:

Its your fault. But I'm sorry.

(beat.)

TOM:

Have a good day at work.

Missy glares at him, stalks out of the room.

MISSY:

from the other room

Just... stop being nice!

(beat.)

And get a fucking job!

A door slams. Missy is gone.

Tom throws toast at the wall.

chicago impressions

In Chicago, Jess's two cats mreow and get tougher than most dudes.

I went to chicago for four days. I went there. I went to Chicago. I stayed there for four days. I stayed in Chicago for four days. I stayed in Chicago for four days. I went I stayed I left. In four days. In Chicago. I shopped. I Shopped when I said I wouldnt as a resolution. I characterized Jess's cats. I stayed with Jess in Chicago for days. This is what I said about her two cats: Jane and Chick Pea make up Jess's family of gorrilla fighters, so the fly by dangers, the peter-pan-boys, are minimized. They hiss at the door. Thats what I said about those two cats. By which I meant that the two cats make up some special story about Jess. I think the story insulates her in my mind against the dark parts of a city pressing in. And to me, dark parts of a city can be the men you date that dont know what to do with you or themselves and make you sad. And you make them sad, but its all over so fast. Then theres cats. I like to imagine that Jess is the cats' ward, and they use cat kungfoo to protect her/ their indifference that makes life feel like it goes on.

I will not sleep through time's passage explains Chick Pea and Jane's ward,

I am like the original city builders,

who saw block by block,

track by track, how Chicago grew up and out--

Maybe if everyone could see how each second goes

instead of one day saying, how did all this get here?

Thats my Chicago story for myself.

Imagining backwards from the future

If my future progeny, one-hundred years from now, want to imagine their granny in 2012, they have to imagine a young woman, tense and worried, sifting through a vintage antique shop housing plates furniture clothes figurines hats candles light fixtures paintings and jewelrly from the 1950's 60's and 70's. She picks up items then sets them down ten or forty minutes later, asking herself questions like, should I buy something to justify the amount of time I spent here? Does indecision plague me on every detail of my life? Should I get this silk maroon dress because the price is low and I like it? Or should I put it back because I don't love it? Does anything matter enough to feel certain for? I should either get the three beer steins, gold evening bag, and dress, or nothing at all. Is everything trivial? The young woman leaves the shop, agonizes over the wording of a text message, rifles through all of her recycling to find one Important reciept, goes to bed early. Before she falls asleep, she thinks of presents she could get for her roommate, who is moving away soon. The golden age.