(Libby Magwitch walks onstage, after a fight she had with her boyfriend. She remains cool and collected, thinking about it all. There is a sense of tiredness in her voice. Perhaps tired of the world or of her life.)

     My boyfriend. He's sitting outside most likely crying over what I said. What I had to say. All these feelings milling around in the world and the one I am supposed to love accuses me of having none. To have no feelings would be not to live, dear. I just don't get how he can even think of me as cold. 'It's just that my dreams are gone, honey,' I could say. I've been so tired. So frustrated.

     My mother bought me some fake flowers the other day. She said they'd brighten up the room, refresh me when I walked in it. But all they do is make me depressed. They make me think of the reasons why I don't have the time or the place to go outside and pick some real flowers. Silk is for lingerie, not for artificial flowers. She's so conventional, my mother. Sometimes it scares me. From what I gather from my mother, silk flowers are all the rage in Philly right now. But I don't want to sacrifice the right to bear real color.

(Fumbles around for a while)

     I don't know. I guess I just want to be a real human being right now. I want to walk around and sniff some flowers, kiss my boyfriend without caring about his breath. I don't want any more breath mints or fake flowers or boxed cereal. I just want to get out a live a little. Maybe I'm not happy with my surroundings. Maybe I'm just sick of the city and how little it has to offer me here.

     I guess I'll just get out. Pack a suitcase and say goodbye to this guy who accuses me of being aloof in dreary surroundings. That's such an ordinary statement: "You don't love me anymore, Libby." It's almost as bad as,"You're all I think about" or "I'm falling in love." How could I fall in love here where I'm cussed out about every five minutes at my teaching job at the high school. When I can't go home without the threat of being mobbed. And my own boyfriend won't even talk to me about it. He loves the city and his job. He loves his whole fucking life SO much. Is he worth it? He doesn't understand or listen or care. Just wants me to be loving here, in the middle of a rainy Chicago. This place seriously gets me down. And I have to get out. NOW.