(Jessie and Ronnie/Euripides on the floor under a lightweight throw. They appear to be naked under their covering. It's a summer dusk, late evening, the sun almost down. The living room is cast in the red light of the setting sun. The cat is gone from the sofa and the house is still.)

Jessie: (softly) Ronnie? (In Jessie's voice, in her soft calling out of her lover's name we should hear a larger question. She should call out his name and audience should understand that on the simplest level she' not sure if he's asleep or awake and she's simply trying to determine whether or not he's awake without waking him if he's sleeping: that's the first thing we should hear in that soft Ronnie? Beyond that, though, the actor should strive to invest those two syllables with the larger cosmic questions of identity and the possibilities of being known by another--through love. In other words the implied questions should be Are you here with me, Ronnie? Am I really no longer alone? The audience will assume, given the scene, that they have just made love and that Ronnie is now asleep or drifting close to sleep while Jessie lies awake beside him. When she throws his name out into the deep red light of that darkening room everyone in the audience should feel the poignancy of those questions beating against her own heart. Am I loved? When this man enters me am I known am I joined with my lover?)

(Ronnie grunts.)

Jessie: (annoyed at his response) Ronnie.