waiting for Gabor

A country road. A tree.

Mid-afternoon.

John, sitting on a low mound, is trying to take off his cycling gloves. He pulls at them, panting.

He gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again.

As before.

Enter Gayle.

John:

(giving up again). Nothing to be done.

Gayle:

(advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide apart from chafing). I'm beginning to come round to that opinion. All my life I've tried to put it from me, saying Gayle, be reasonable, you haven't yet tried everything. And I resumed the struggle. (She broods, musing on the struggle. Turning to John.) So there you are again.

John:

Am I?

Gayle:

I'm glad to see you back. I thought you were gone forever.

John:

Me too.

Gayle:

Together again at last! We'll have to celebrate this. But how? (She reflects.) Get up till I embrace you.

John:

(irritably). Not now, not now.