January 7, 2014: Another Time, Another Place

 “Another Time, Another Place” by U2 from Boy

Listen to it here

 (image from maisonboheme.blogspot.com)

 (image from maisonboheme.blogspot.com)


HANNA sleeps, silently and motionless on her back, her arms visibly spread out at odd angles. Her alarms sounds and she tags it off with one hand. She sits up in bed, half conscious, rubbing her eyes clear of sleep and the fuzziness of first light. She notices she has an audience.

HANNA (grumbling)


Gotta get that lock fixed.

She stretches slightly and the sheet falls away, exposing the fact that HANNA prefers to sleep…unencumbered. For a moment, she makes a move to cover herself and then stops, shaking her head ruefully.


Suppose that was pretty much inevitable, wasn’t it? Do try to be respectful-like and not stare too obviously, won’t you?

She rises out of the bed and quickly, but steadily and rather unabashedly, walks to her robe and puts it on, covering herself.



That’s quite enough of that then. I assume I can trust you to be discrete about me in the all together?


She leaves the room and returns with a cup of coffee, sitting at her desk and spinning the black chair around to face the audience.


So, the thing is…ok, first the naked thing. My apartment. My bedroom. I sleep naked. It’s one of the bennies of being an adult on own’s one. Get past it.

The real thing, as I was saying, is—and I absolutely hate admitting this—the real thing is that I thought about her last night again. Dreamt? Both, maybe.

HANNA takes a long drink of coffee and shrugs.


It isn’t like I don’t get that it’s over. I’m not expecting her to come back saying she made a mistake. I don’t think we’ll have some rain soaked reunion that leads to a hasty church wedding surrounded by our loved ones. I understand the concept of being dumped.

Sighs, looks away for a moment.

HANNA (continuing, tapping the side of her head)

It’s just…up here. When I close my eyes or zone out? Up here did not get the message. Up here it is all white fluffy clouds against bright blue skies, stolen kisses at an inappropriate but delightful moments, and endless conversations about…anything. Up here, she’s still…

Long pause. Another sigh.


Right…right. You get the idea. She…we just echo off the walls here. It’s over, but the sound of us has not stopped ringing in my ears. I know I’ll never have that future with her, but it’s like my senses have not caught up. A whiff of something here that reminds me of our attempt at cooking a turkey. A snippet of a song that I can almost place from that café we went to when we lived in Austin. She drips off everything in this damn place.

And so…she’s still here at night while I toss and turn in a bed that is not made for one.

It’s just…

A strangled sob.

HANNA (quiet, looking away and at a spot on the floor)

I’m just not meant for one.