Maryia Bialkovich



The woman is in the room: semi-dark, cozy. The Flat Owner emerges from the darkness of the doorway. Another woman, the Watcher, stands in the corner of the room. She looks out the window, almost blending in with the wall.

FLAT OWNER Would you like anything? Tea, maybe? 

WOMAN Me? No, I… No, thanks. I don’t want anything, I guess.

FLAT OWNER Please sit down. Maybe you’d like some coffee? It’s instant coffee, though. 

WOMAN No, I guess not. Thanks.  

FLAT OWNER I also have wine. It’s a good one – it comes with the protected geographical indication. Do you want some? Just one glass!

WOMAN Well, then… I’ll have tea, if that’s okay.

FLAT OWNER (with a friendly smile) You don’t like to choose, do you? Where are you from? 

Distant sound of an explosion.

FLAT OWNER The fuse has blown.

WOMAN But the lights are on.

FLAT OWNER Oh, that’s the neighbors. So a glass of wine for you, yes?

WOMAN A cup of coffee, if you don’t mind.

FLAT OWNER Well, it’s up to you to decide. My job is to offer. Please wait here one moment. 

The Flat owner leaves. The Woman looks around. The hum of the street can be heard. The Woman gets up and heads for the window. The Flat owner comes in with tea, puts the teapot and cups on the table. The Woman sits back down. 

FLAT OWNER Are you cold? I’ll close the window. (Closes the window.) 

WOMAN No, it’s fine. Actually, it’s a bit stuffy in here. 

FLAT OWNER Drink some tea to warm up. 

The Flat owner pours the tea rigorously. The Watcher sighs. The Woman and the Flat owner drink tea in silence.