No one on stage. There are shadows across the room from the afternoon sun shining through a widow. Voices from off R. A middle aged woman and a man in overalls appear in the doorway.
Woman
…it’s just in here, this way.
Man
Oh yes, she looks like she’s seen better days all right.
Woman
You see, as I said, I’m afraid it’s hopeless, gone in the legs, as they say.
Man
Well…this sure is a beautiful room.
She looks at the man and then at her hands.
He walks around the table, running his hand over the surface of the table. He bends and looks underneath.
Woman
Yes, I love coming in here in the afternoons, I read a lot. Do you?
He looks out from under the table.
Man
What?
Woman
Read. Do you read?
Man
Ah, no. Don’t have time.
Woman
No, most men don’t have time.
He ducks his head under the table again.
Woman
It’s hard to get, a good man…
From under the table.
Man
Huh?
Woman
Tradesman. When you’re on your own, like I am.
Man
That’s what we’re here for.
Woman
Yes, but so hard to find. One that knows what he’s doing, who can do the job.
He stands up and faces her
Man
I think you are being a little hard on…tradesman in general.
Woman
Are you interested? Should she be put out to pasture, gone in the legs
Man
Oh no. There’s not much needed here, but a little TLC.
Woman
They are the words I’ve been waiting to here.
She runs her fingers over the tabletop.
Woman
She was beautiful once, I suppose that’s hard to believe now.
Man
No, that’s not hard to believe. She still is.
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