(An ordinary looking man sits on a ‘bench’ reading a newspaper and looking very interested in the article he is following. A frazzled looking woman with a map in her hand walks by, finally conceding to ask for directions. She approaches the man cautiously.)
Woman: “Excuse me,”
Man: (Not even looking up from his paper.) “Do you want something?”
Woman: “Well, I’m a bit lost actually,”
Man: (Uninterested, turning a page.) “Is that so?”
Woman: (Questioningly) “I was wondering if you could give me directions.”
Man: (Finally looking up from newspaper, annoyed sigh.) “What makes you think I know where you’re looking to go?”
Woman: “I just assumed- I have a map here. I don’t know where I am.”
Man: “If you don’t know where you are, how am I supposed to know where you are?”
(Pause, woman looks confused.)
Man: (Exasperatedly gets up and slams the paper on his ‘bench’.) “Really, who’s to know where any of us are going if we don’t even know ourselves? (Conclusively) If I decide to take the subway, and you decide to take the subway, we’re both moving in the same direction, but to different destinations. We may be going the same way, to the same target, but as soon as we step off that metal monster we’re two different people again with two unlike paths.”
Woman: (Quickly) “Sir, I’m not looking for the subway, I’m just-“
Man: (Interrupting) “But it could be the exact opposite couldn’t it? I could be going to temple and you could be going to church, and we’re both on different sides of the earth travelling by car or bus or train, but we’re doing the same thing with the same intention, just on different trails. We’re not so different then. (Increasingly animated, begins to walk around.) Is that what links everyone, do you think? The paths we go on, do they define us? When you think about it, we’re all just doing the same thing; wandering around this dammed earth looking for something.”
Woman: (Stepping back) “I have a lunch date I’m going to be late to-“
Man: (As if she has just proved his point) “That’s exactly it! Where do we all go to? Where do we come from, and how? Does it even matter? Is that our purpose, to find the place we were looking for all along only to realize that we have to keep searching? (Dramatic pause, slower) Do we slow down only in death? Is death brought upon us when we find our objective, or is it the last destination?”
Woman: (Backing up, creeped out) “You know what, that’s alright; I’m going to ask someone else.” (Quickly, she exits)
(Man watches her go before picking up his newspaper again, sitting back down on his bench. He opens to where he left off and begins to read. After a long moment, he calls after her.)
“Broadview Road,”
(Curtain)
