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Maybe Tomorrow

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A busy street in New York. Winter. Sounds of birds and outdoor chatter. Loud music. Two mimes. The younger one, maybe in his mid to late thirties, is already packing his things and smoking a cigarette. The older one, perhaps in his late sixties is arguing loudly with someone off the stage.

MIME ONE: Yeah, yeah. Are you not listening to me? What's so funny!? I might be a mime but I'm not fucking deaf! I heard you, you little fucker. This is my spot, okay? I don't care you were here yesterday, I have it payed. Oh, fuck off!

Mime One comes onto the stage and it's only after a couple of brief seconds he notices Mime Two.

MIME ONE: Those fuckers. Pretentious little bastards. If I see them again, I'll take their stupid guitars and shove them up their asses. Art my ass. It's bullshit. Sorry. Long day. Swear to God, one day I get a heart attack.

Mime Two studies him closely but doesn't say anything.

MIME ONE: New around here? Haven't seen you. Tough business, aye? (waves at him) Hey, you're not mute are you?

Mime Two puts his cigarette out and gestures at Mime One, miming a greeting.

MIME ONE: Ah, I see I see. Always working right? (laughs) I like you buddy. You seem like a nice chap.

Mime One walks towards Mime Two and goes for a handshake.

MIME ONE: I'm Václav. My friends call me Vashek. In this magical city since 1968. Who would've thought I'll be still jumping around like an idiot. It's not even artistic at my age anymore, is it. It's kinda sad actually.
Hey, may I have one of those?

Mime Two gives him a cigarette.

MIME ONE: Thanks. So...what's your story pretty? You should be somewhere on Broadway with that face of yours, not freezing your ass off out here. God, New York winters are the worst.
You have a name? Are you a spy or what's the deal with you?

MIME TWO: Quintin.

MIME ONE: What's that?

MIME TWO: My name. Quintin.

MIME ONE: Ah, good to have a stage name. That's clever. So...are you gonna tell me you're a former stockbroker who wanted to come clean and free his troubled soul?

MIME TWO: Something like that.

MIME ONE: Good make up by the way. My wife used to do it for me. We came here together. Young and stupid, right? Aye, what a time, what a time. I lost her last year. Now it's just all so meaningless you know. But one has to carry on, right? Ah, fuck this. Are you married?

MIME TWO: No.

MIME ONE: Not everyone can understand the struggles we have to go through. You better find someone who gets you, you know. All of you. She was a dreamboat my sweet girl, she was. We did this together, we were an act. But not all artists can be understanding, I've met some stuck up bitches, can't even tell you. So...you have at least that special someone?

MIME TWO: Not even sure anymore.

MIME ONE: Ah, someone's depressed. Cheer up. You're gonna get her. What's her name?

MIME TWO: Carrie.

MIME ONE: That's a nice name. I like her already. Is she tall and dark haired? Am I right? Tell me I'm right!

MIME TWO: Well...

MIME ONE: Ah, you have to fight for her, buddy. Life is too short.

MIME TWO: I haven't seen her in a long time. But I know she lives here.

MIME ONE: Maybe she'll walk around here and you'll see each other.

MIME TWO: Maybe...

MIME ONE: Maybe even tomorrow! What if she comes tomorrow?! You always have to have faith in tomorrows, otherwise it's all fucked. It is all fucked but you know...love is the best thing in the world. It's the only true thing worth fighting for. I'm old but this I know.

MIME TWO: I'm gonna go now. Nice meeting you.

MIME ONE: You too, you too, buddy. And remember, if today is fucked, there's always tomorrow!

And with that, Mime Two disappears into the winter darkness.