"You know, darling, our relationship can never be." (crosses over to the bar, pours a drink) "Whiskey, darling?"
"Why yes, with a splash, you know how I like it. Yes, I know, I'm the one who pointed that out to you." (Takes glass)
"For it is true, I realize, the distance between us is insurmountable. You, an Upper West Sider, me, in...." (choking back sobs)
"Yes, my darling, you in...I can hardly bear to say it.....Kew Gardens. Cigarette?"
"I thought you quit" (takes one shakily from the pack)
"So did you, my love, so did you." (Takes one for himself, lights both with an impressive silver lighter. Exhales slowly, head tilted skyward) "That's at least two trains....service disruptions, that could be three....a bus, for God's sake, we have to be realistic, lovely."
(sighing) "I know...these last few days at your apartment have been perfect...I love Zabars, and Fairway....but Queens, Queens is a part of me." (She throws down the cigarette, flinging herself into his arms) "This is futile! This can never be! I am marching on to that 1 train, to the E train, to the - the hell with the bus, I'm walking - and you will NEVER see me again! Never, I tell you!"
(She pushes him away, turns on one heel and marches down the hall way, tripping on the bundled Sunday Times, catching her Gap sweater on the hanging bicycle rack on the wall, tearing a huge hole in the shoulder as she disentangles herself, lurching forward. A small cat screams bloody murder as she steps on its tail in the dark hallway. She screams and kicks the cat back into the living room. Meanwhile, her tossed cigarette has started a small fire in the Pottery barn woven dhurrie rug and he is beating it out with his Timberland boots and pouring the leftover morning coffee onto it. Fortunately it is an earth-toned rug and the coffee stains don't show. Chaos ensues.)