KELLY enters her dark home, finds a man, MR. MUSIC, sitting at her kitchen table. She’s oddly not surprised by this.
KELLY: I don’t have any money. (gestures) Look at this place. You can tell I don’t have any money.
MR. MUSIC: I’m not here to rob you.
KELLY: Kill me?
MR. MUSIC: No.
KELLY: Serve me papers?
MR. MUSIC: What sort of life do you live?
A beat. Then…
KELLY: What do you want?
Mr. Music pulls out a GUN, sets it down on the table.
KELLY: I thought you said you weren’t here to kill me.
MR. MUSIC: This is for me.
KELLY: You’re going to kill yourself in my kitchen?
MR. MUSIC: I didn’t want to be alone.
KELLY: Bit dramatic. Why make such a show of it?
MR. MUSIC: Would you have preferred walking in on the end result?
KELLY: Fair point.
Kelly seats herself across from Mr. Music.
KELLY: Why my kitchen?
MR. MUSIC: You’re not going to call the police? Try to stop me?
KELLY: Do you want me to?
A silence. Then…
KELLY: Why my kitchen?
MR. MUSIC: (shrugs) One kitchen is as good as another.
Another silence.
KELLY: Why are you doing it?
MR. MUSIC: Does it matter?
KELLY: (shrugs) One reason is as good as another.
MR. MUSIC: I thought you’d be a bit more upset.
KELLY: Oh. So, you can think about someone other than yourself?
MR. MUSIC: Not often enough.
KELLY: Are you scared?
MR. MUSIC: Yes. But I’m more afraid of it not being the end.
Kelly stands.
KELLY: Well. Whatever you decide, don’t take too long deciding it. I’ve gotta get up in the morning.
MR. MUSIC: You’re leaving?
KELLY: Nothing I say or do can stop you. But if given the choice, I don’t have to sit here and watch you do it.
A final silence. Then…
Kelly leaves, turns out the lights, and goes to bed.