ME (flipping through hanging clothes): What is this? Is this your jacket? When did this get here? I don’t recognize it.
DREW (without looking up from his book): Yes, it’s a jacket.
ME: Yours? It’s not mine.
(silence)
ME: You are ignoring me.
DREW: No, I’m busy picturing throwing this book at you. It just bounced off your head and make a really good sound.
ME: Really.
DREW: Yes, and now you’re laying on the floor silent. You’ve been knocked out cold.
ME: Well, I suppose a man can dream, Andrew.
DREW (smiling, eyes closed): Shhhhh….
MISS ANTHROPE'S HOUSE OF HIGH DRAMA 