Give You the Time of Day

(One actor/actress, B, stands looking up at the ceiling/stars. Another, A, walks into the scene.)

A: Excuse me, do you have the time?

B: (Continues to look up)

A: Hello?

B: What?

A: Sorry to bother you, but do you have the time?

B: For what?

A: I mean, do you know what time it is?

B: Sorry, I was just looking at the stars.

A: I’m pretty sure that’s an airplane.

B: Really? Oh.

A: Anyway…

B: You can’t actually have it, you know.

A: What?

B: The time. It’s really just a concept. A construct, if you will.

A: I just meant—

B: Do I know you?

A: I don’t think so.

B: I find you intriguing.

A: Thanks?

B: No one has the time anymore. When was the last time you looked at the stars?

A: You can’t even see the stars from here.

B: (pointing up) No, look! Right there!

A: Airplane.

B: Oh. Hmm.

A: So, I guess that’s a no, then?

B: What?

A: You don’t know what time it is?

B: It’s not morning yet. Why does it matter?

A: I have to be somewhere by eleven and I’m pretty much hopelessly lost.

B: (looking up) Aren’t we all.

A: That’s still an airplane, you know.

B: Right. Would you do me a favor?

A: (beginning to back up) I don’t even know you…

B: Would you just stand with me for a while and forget about where you’re supposed to be?

A: Well—

B: Can’t we just be two lost people on the same street corner, divorced completely from time and place and distance?

A: I have to be somewhere. (Turns to exit)

B: Just… let me know if you see any stars.