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(A modest living room in a modest American home. A comfortably used lazy-boy chair that can hold two people is the centerpiece of the living room. Marc, under blankets, is sleeping in it. After a few minutes, it is obvious Marc is having a
nightmare.)

MARC: Stop…stop don’t…how how how…

(Marc pops up suddenly. He is awake and looks down to see himself holding a baseball bat underneath the blankets.)

MARC: Jesus Christ.

(Marc runs out of the room to a bathroom. As he leaves, Cynthia enters in the front door. She is swinging her college book bag and a small overnight case and throws them down. She sees the baseball bat and the blanket on the chair and hears water running in the bathroom.)

CYNTHIA: Anybody home?

(Cynthia picks up the baseball bat and practices swinging. Marc enters, wiping his face on a towel.)

MARC: When did you get here? I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.

CYNTHIA: Is that any way to greet me? Now, come here and give me a hug, you with your wet face.

(He sluggishly walks towards her. She grabs him and hugs him tightly.)

CYNTHIA: I got out of classes for Friday, so I figured, why wait? I drove up today after I finished my last class. Miss me much?

MARC: Uh. Yeah.

CYNTHIA: Thrilled, I can tell. What were you doing with the bat on the chair? I thought Mom said all equipment has to stay out in the garage.

MARC: Well, Mom’s not here right now, is she?

CYNTHIA: Boy! (Pause) How’s school going?

MARC: Fine.

CYNTHIA: How’s practice going? You still a mighty Hall Viking Shortstop?

MARC: Yeah.

CYNTHIA: I thought you would be at practice now.

{Continued}