Member-only story
To Move Or Not To Move
A Very Short Play, With Words
A bus stop bench.
The bus stop shelter has a poster for an action hero movie.
There is a park across the street.
Morning.
Theodore: Listen. Simon. Instead of just sitting here as we do every day, confusing the bus drivers who bother to stop—let’s do something. I was reading a magazine article last night that said that everything is changing faster than ever before. I suppose they probably said that back in the day when the first horseless carriage roared down this street. But it is different now—isn’t it?! We should go check. I’m not joining any apocalyptical or dystopian choirs but sometimes I swear I hear heraldry horns inviting me to some grand event—like something more genuine is beckoning.
Simon: Heraldry horns, hah! It’s just your tinnitus, Theodore. It’s an election year—the very air we breathe is filled with the promotional chatter for selecting a new emperor— who, by the way, I assure you will be wearing the latest Nothing. That’s all you’re hearing. Or maybe just the sound of Old Father Time slapping you around a bit—as he does us all on occasion. But I see that today you’ve got that look again—searching for some incitement to action, prodding the day to jumpstart your head into some expectations. I swear if you were…
