Lights come up slowly on a deserted stage. Deserted, except for a card table & a stool. A stack of books crouch on the table, close neighbors with a worn legal pad covered in scribbles.
A lanky boy meanders onto the stage, pen in hand, intently studying a small pad in his hand. He mutters to himself, repeating what’s written on the pad; it sounds like a poem. He pauses halfway to the card table, glancing around him. Assured he is totally alone, he slides the pen behind his ear & turns to face the audience.
His pensively observant face studies the audience for a few moments. He nods & smirks thoughtfully, clasping his hands together. His stance looks as if he were lost for words, but his demeanor tells another story. Upon inspection, he looks as if he could be a college-bound, modern Shakespeare.
After astutely surveying his audience, our lanky friend unclasps his hands, cocking his arms in a “well, here I am, what more do you want from me?” manner. He takes a deep breath, & speaks to the audience.