Dimensions of being.

A tapping sound on glass.

The light at the end of a gloomy tunnel - expanding.

A train whistle.

Darkness.

A man is kneeling in half-light, it seems as if he is talking to his dead wife, saying goobye. He looks at her picture. There are flowers - the reflection of a corpse covered by a sheet. A wedding ring.

He is sorry for not saying he loved her. For not being there, for being trapped by distractions. In fact he was lonely even being by her side. There was a haunting force which pulled him away from his ability to be a good father, a good husband, a good son… now he was determined to honour her memory by being fully alive – like a cancer survivor. Like an absolved debtor. Like a bottle which has released its genie..

The screen flickers. A tapping sound on glass…

A voice far off - recites a poem. Rather strange, incoherent; Unusual; Emotive.

The man stands up and peers into the near distance. He moves forwards until his face is in close up – his breath steams the glass between us.

Music – Mozart’s Masonic funeral music.

There are feet shuffling around the corpse – saying goodbye –throwing petals. A woman’s hand pulls back the sheet to reveal the man – his face has pennies on his eyeballs and he is holding a television remote control, as his hands rest upon his breast.

The man behind the glass taps frantically, dumbly on the screen. The woman takes the remote control from the dead mans hands and switches off the television – the image becomes a dot.

A train whistle

The woman reads a few lines to the dead man, from tonight’s TV guide.

The screen flickers...

End.