Scene is set in a park, 10:30pm . Joey is sat on a swing, looking thoughtful, with a swing to his left unoccupied. Enter Gina stage right, who takes the swing.
Gina: Cheer up, it can't be all that bad!
Joey: Trust me, it can.
Gina: Bundle of joy, you are! Gina. (She sticks out her left hand)
Joey: (looking at her hand until she retracts it) Joey.
Gina: Well, Joey, Mr Down in the Dumps, I am here to swing. And swing I shall, with no hinderance from your grumpiness. If you will. ( She swings, leaning back until she's nearly horizontal)
Gina: It's easier to see the clouds this way. It's like flying.
Joey: It's also a sure way to break your neck.
Gina: (Not looking down) Oh, do lighten up. Try it, you know you want to.
Joey begins to swing, breaking into a smile as he does.
Joey: You're right! This does feel like flying. Very dangerous flying.
Gina: Shut up and enjoy the flying.
Scene shifts and both cease swinging, leaving Gina spotlit on her swing, and Joey still onstage, but in darkness. The rest of the stage is dark.
Gina: I come here nearly every night now. It's not the same though. And it never, ever will be. The flying doesn't work either. Its not flying if you're going nowhere, and swinging back and forth will never get me out. I'm stuck in this one horse town with no way of getting out. I have anchors around my neck, it seems, and a huge sign saying Avoid at all costs. I walk through the streets, and I catch glimpses of him, the back of his head on the train, his voice from a flat. Every time, he's back, here, haunting me with his longevity. But he's not here. He's gone. He's fucking gone.
We were so stupid back then, so young. It's almost painful.