Imaginationland

$ stands at the door with the last of his belongings, an empty living room set is dimly lit. Sitting on the couch, W has a joint ready and rolled.

$: I can't do this anymore. I have to leave.
W: Why? [Lights joint] What happened? [Inhales]
$: I can't keep working on a relationship that isn't sound.
W: [Exhales] What are you even talking about? [Offers it to $]
$: Exactly this [Dejects the joint]...The fact that there's nothing here. I'm imagining there's more to this picture, over-analyzing. I read between the lines, when I shouldn't, and find myself lost all-over again when it comes to you and me.
W: What are you imagining?
$: Love...But it's intangible, incorrigible, inept.
W: You're my friend [Beat] I don't know what to tell you other than that.
$: That's why I must go.
W: So you're gonna leave? Just like that? Out the door, never to be back?
$: I've no other choice.
W: Well...who's gonna make me fuckin' breakfast tomorrow morning?
$: [Pause] Maybe someone who you can love.

They stare at each other, each inhaling to say something but no words come out.

$: I'm sorry, goodbye. [$ leaves the room]

W sits solemnly on the couch while the joint billows out in his hand. Lights fade.