HARRY:
You’re wearing a dress.
HARRIET:
You’re wearing a dress too! Sort of
[Harry frowns. He flaps his hands in a gesture for Harriet to clear off]
No! You first. Maybe if you go you can show me how it’s done and I can follow?
[Harry thinks about this. He pulls a face]
HARRY:
I’m not sure I like that idea. I’d imagined suicide to be a private act, not a spectator sport. Please, can’t you just go away?
HARRIET:
Just forget about me. Pretend I’m not here.
[Harriet turns her head and looks away from Harry. Harry peers down, closes his eyes, meditates for a moment, opens his eyes again]
HARRY:
It’s no use. I can’t pretend you’re not here. You’ve spoiled it for me now.
HARRIET:
Well, I’m soooo sorry about that Mister...what is your name anyway?
HARRY:
Harold.
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