Stage: The two chairs are drawn closer now, side by side, almost touching. Dim light. The floor still bears the marks of the last act: one chair on its side, the other shoved off-centre. Slowly, they right the chairs, then sit.
They sit. Silence. Long.
HIM (suddenly, voice low but firm): I did love you.
The words hang in the stillness. Silence.
HER (quietly): You never said.
HIM: I thought you knew.
HER (dry, almost bitter laugh): Knew?
(beat)
You thought silence could speak for you?
Long silence.
HER (turning slightly toward him): I waited.
(beat)
For words.
(beat)
For proof.
He shifts uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the floor.
HER (sharp, controlled): You gave me silence and called it love.
Silence.
HIM (quietly, defensive): Love is easy. Speaking…
(he falters)
Speaking is not.
Silence.
HER: So you left me guessing.
HIM (softly, almost to himself): I thought you felt it anyway. You know me.
HER (cold): Feeling and knowing are not the same.
They sit in silence with their shoulders almost brushing, close but never touching. She leans toward him, slowly. Their faces hover near, almost a kiss, almost a crossing. For a breath, the space between them disappears. He doesn’t move. She pulls back with a faint, broken laugh.
HER (whisper, almost breaking): This is not enough.
Silence. The two chairs stand side by side, closer than ever, yet the distance between them feels infinite.
Blackout.
reflections of an unquiet mind 