A Sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
Anthony returns. Shortly after, Clara arrives.
Clara – Are you still here?
Anthony – No one is waiting for me at home. It seems you aren’t either.
Clara – No.
Anthony – But this is the last time I’m working overtime. Just a few files to wrap up before leaving.
Clara – Leaving?
Anthony – I handed in my resignation today.
Clara – I hope it’s not because of me.
Anthony – Why would it be because of you?
Clara – To avoid working in the same company in the unlikely event that we end up having sex? In that case, it’s a shame. It really wasn’t necessary.
Anthony – Are you so sure that we’ll never sleep together?
Clara – Especially since I’m working as a temp. My assignment here ends tonight anyway…
Anthony – So, it turns out we’re both unemployed.
Clara (ironically) – Nothing stands in the way of our love anymore…
He kisses her, and she lets him.
Anthony – I’ve updated my flirting methods a bit. And I’ve stopped with jokes.
Clara – I can see that… No more joking around.
Anthony – Let’s say I’m a bit more direct.
Clara – I don’t mind.
Anthony – It’s starting to get dark. We’ll soon be able to see the stars.
Clara notices something against one of the walls of the terrace that might remain invisible.
Clara – What are those plaques with inscriptions?
Anthony – Oh, you didn’t know? It’s true you’re a temp. They’re epitaphs.
Clara – Epitaphs?
Anthony – Some companies provide heir employees with nurseries. Well, the owners of this tower offer employees a memorial garden for the ashes of the deceased.
Clara – A memorial garden…
Anthony – Or rather, a memorial terrace, if you prefer. The relatives of deceased can scatter the ashes from the top of the tower. Or if not, the boss takes care of it.
Clara – And this memorial terrace also serves as a smoking area…
Anthony – With housing prices in the city… Given how expensive real estate is in the city… And this way, our dearly departed smokers get to feel like they’re on a break.
Clara – A permanent break.
Anthony – Tobacco has certainly contributed to the final solution of the pension problem…
Clara – And the cemetery has become an extension of the office. What’s written on these epitaphs?
Anthony moves closer to read some of them.
Anthony – Let’s see… (Reading) “I’m not here, but you can leave me a message”… “Change is now”… “Tomorrow I’ll quit smoking”…
Clara – Enlightening…
Anthony – Listen to this one, it sounds like an aphorism: “Unlike particles, testicles cannot be in two places at the same time”…
They exchange a look.
Clara – It’s true that this place is very romantic, but we might not want to linger too long.
Anthony – Can I smoke one last cigarette?
Clara (decisively) – If you want to come with me, now’s the time.
Anthony – Okay. (They head towards the exit) Where do you live?
Clara – Just nearby. Do you want to have a drink at my place?
Anthony – Sure. But I warn you, I never sleep over on the first date.
Clara – There you go again with your jokes.
They leave together. A character (man or woman) arrives. They vape for a moment before addressing the audience.
Character – This is my last cigarette. It’s over. I’m quitting. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Anyway, tomorrow will be without me. I hesitated for a long time, and then I finally decided. It’s never the right time, is it? It’s not easy to find a good reason to keep going every day. But believe me, it’s even harder to stop here, without a reason. I don’t know how those people manage, leaving behind a little note. A resignation letter. What do they still hope for? A little understanding? I’m leaving in silence. What could I say to them? What could they understand? I don’t even understand myself. Life doesn’t understand me anymore. And if they answered me? What can you possibly say to the absent? I’m leaving without a word. Without notice. I’m making way. Because, of course, I’ll be replaced. So will you. Don’t kid yourself. In the crowd, no one is irreplaceable. When you’re gone, it will be someone else. Here or elsewhere. A little later or right after. It’s your life that wants this. The lives of others… (He/she stubs out the cigarette or puts away the vape.) No, if I could tell them something before I go, I’d just say: don’t worry, I’m going to blend into the crowd. I’m no longer here. I’ll be the multitude. (A pause) It’s not death. It’s just a new life beginning…
The character leaves.
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Nicotine
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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