The Mistress

- You moved your furniture again.
- Yah. I, uh, ... yah.
- It needs something; that space there under the window ... something to fill it. You should put something there that's interesting; unusual.
- It already has something ... I mean, I like it like it is.
- But it's empty.
- No. Not at all. It's open. Open space.
- ... Nah. You should put something there that says something about you. One of your funky sculptures or a big ... I dunno. It asks for something more.
- Yes.
- You agree?
- Yes. Let it ask. That's what I like. It's a needed presence.

Silence. He stares at her in brief defense. A flash of something; dread, weariness. His lips move as if ... But he checks himself and looks away. Then,

- Whatever.
- Don't say that. I hate it when you 'whatever' me.
- Why? Whatever? ... It just means ...
- It's dismissive. It's a slight.
- Nothing of the kind. You over-analyze.
- I didn't analyze at all. I just felt. Open space.
- What?
- In case I want to dance.
- Dance?
- Or something. The place by the window ...
- By yourself?
- Maybe ... yes. Yes, most likely by myself. Unless you want to dance with me.
- There isn't any music.
- I ... sometimes. I mean, there is though. It's there. It's always there. But I could turn some on, if that's what you mean.
- No. No no. Maybe I'd watch you. I like to watch you move.
- Now?
- I'd rather watch you when you didn't know I was there.
- Spy on me?
- I have your permission.
- That would sorta be a waste. We have so little time together already, it's sad to think. I mean then, not only are we not together, but my privacy isn't even really mine anymore and ...
- Don't start.

~Silence~

- Don't. Anyway. I gotta go. I'll get you a plant or something. That would look nice there. A big plant. Something alive.