Not much else.
KATTY goes to stand by the window. He turns around. He goes left. He turns back to the window. He walks past the window. He walks away from the window. He looks at the window. He turns left and walks right. He walks back to the window. Fuck it – he is the window. KOTTY looks on. He is also the window or something.
KATTY: Life. Life. Death. And life.
Look how that tree used to be blooming and now it isn’t anymore. Look at it. That shit is profound.
KOTTY: God, I wish I had one other friend, at least.
[Tries to exit (as any willing and able human would do).]
KOTTY: For what?
KATTY: Um… Just wait a while.
KOTTY: Fine. What time is it?
KATTY: Time has no meaning. It is night. It is also day.
KOTTY: But, like… Is it near ten or…?
KATTY: [sighs dramatically.]
Yes. Fine. Yes.
KOTTY: Who are you waiting for?
KATTY: It’s really difficult to explain…
KATTY: I am waiting for death. I am waiting for life. I am waiting. We are all waiting.
KOTTY: [Crying into his soup. He should have listened when his mom told him not to hang around with KATTY. He was young and stupid. KATTY seemed cool, what with his cigarettes behind his ear and his endless existentialist ranting and Macbeth-esque “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” soliloquies. He needs new friends, like, yesterday (not that yesterday exists). Life is so meaningless. Meaninglessness is so meaningless.]
KATTY: The bottomless chasm is nigh.
[They stay in the same place, both being and not being the window. Everything is the window, and also nothing is the window. Everything stays exactly the same.]