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Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Infinity

By  Karen Jennings
SCENE ONE

HE and SHE sit on armchairs in a cramped but cosy-looking lounge. Both are in their mid to late fifties. The room is filled with knick-knacks - porcelain cats, hand-crocheted doilies and such-like. A dog is sleeping at the woman's feet. The man has a knitted blanket over his knees and is slowly drinking from a cup of tea. Each time he takes a sip, he returns the cup to a small round table beside the chair, which is piled with the remains of a newspaper. They sit in silence for about five minutes before HE at last speaks.

HE: The problem with infinity is that you get so damned tired trying to count that high.

SHE: You're not supposed to count it, you know.

HE: Then what are you supposed to do with it?

SHE: Nothing.

HE: [Taking another sip of tea and replacing the cup.] Oh.

They continue to sit in silence for a few more minutes. The lights go out. Curtain closes.

THE END
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