[On a softly lit stage there stands a card table with one chair to the left and one chair to the right. On the table there stands a jigsaw puzzle in its cardboard box. In the background hangs a large wall calendar. Our protagonists enter from opposite sides of the stage and approach the table. They circle it flirtatiously before each picks a seat. One picks up the puzzle box, shakes it, and hands it to the other. The other opens the box, spills the pieces across the table. The box halves are upended at a corner of the table. The couple spreads the pieces out. One divides them into two piles; the other picks a pile and the game begins. The motion of their hands in assembling the unseen puzzle matches the dialogue's pace; it's a dance of hands. As the pace picks up, pages fall off the calendar and tumble to the floor.]

You know...

... they say ...

[Brandishing a corner piece] two lovers, jigsaw-cut, start out ...

[Brandishing another corner piece] As kitty-corner puzzle pieces --

Square ...

Right-angled ...

Lone and looped and tumbling with desire ...

... for that one across the table.

Slowly, they reach out;

Piece by piece they grow;

Trying ...

Failing ...

Stretching ...

Till the first touch.

Then the sweetness of the first interlocking piece.

Then one after another.

Until they've lost track of what came from where.

And the chain twists and weaves ...

... fast and tight around them ...

... and links the two from end to end.

Then they look at each other ...

And --

[They kiss. A beat of silence afterward.]

And each hole is filled, sometimes by one,

Sometimes by the other,

[Simaltaneously] And sometimes both.

And all the pieces are made to fit.

The puzzle solved.

... until someone looks at the picture.

[Silence as the pair look down at what they've created. The calendar stops shedding months. It is December.]

Wait ... the one on the box doesn't look a thing like this -- something's wrong.

What are you talking about?

Well, the one on the box doesn't have all sorts of lines on it.

What?!

And we haven't done it right. This piece here -- we got it backwards. It's messing up the picture.

It's just one piece. At least we didn't wind up with the missing piece. Everybody else winds up with the missing piece.

What about this one here in the middle we broke and had to Scotch-tape together?

What about it? We fixed it, didn't we?

I fixed it.

Well, you broke it. And it's my Scotch tape. And it's not in the middle of the puzzle, anyway.

What?!

It's on my half of the puzzle.

But that's my piece!

How can it be your piece when it's in my half of the puzzle?

It came from my side of the table. Besides, it's not in your half of the puzzle. Your half starts there.

What?!?

Right there, with this piece.

That piece? No, no -- that was your piece.

No it wasn't --

Yes it is. It's from your side of the table.

So what?

Yeah, It's the one you spent all night looking for. You threw a fit over it.

That's because you were the one that lost it.

Wrong!

You were!

That's what you said back then.

Because I was right.

Nooo, because you found it on the bottom of you shoe and blamed me.

You lost it!

Why would I lose it under your tennis shoe?

Because you're an asshole.

Excuse me?

You heard me. You are an asshole and this half of the puzzle belongs to me.

You can't take that half of the puzzle--

Don't tell me what I can and can't do. It's my half of the puzzle and it starts right here.

Are you nuts??

No. It starts right here, with this piece, and you wanna know how I remember?

How?

This is the piece you hid in your underwear that night.

Awwww, come on, it was a joke --

It was Valentine's Day!

Where's your sense of humor? It was romantic.

Oh, yeah. Like you have to go and tell your friends, "I spent all night on my hands and knees looking for a puzzle piece on Valentine's Day!"

Well, you found it.

No I didn't.

Huh?

That's not your piece. I swiped that piece from another puzzle. An older one. A better one.

This was our puzzle. How could you?

It was taking too long that night. You didn't seem to notice.

[Silence.]

You can keep that piece.

There were other ones.

Fine. Keep 'em all. I'm taking my half of the puzzle.

From that piece?

Sure, whatever.

Fine.

Fine?

Fine.

FINE! [Silence.] But I get that part over there because I'm the one who stayed up all night putting it together.

Fine, but I get this edge and everything that goes with it because you hate doing edges and begged me to do one.

That's because they're easy and I didn't want to stay up all night twice in a row.

[Chokes back a sob.] You're lying.

Don't get all weepy on me. There's your part of the puzzle and there's mine. Any other foreign objects you forgot to tell me about?

Fuck you.

Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

I'm putting my parts in this half of the box.

Yeah, sure. [Lifts box lid.] Leave me with the picture for chrissake.

Well, you won't be able to see it [gets up from the table and walks past the table, heading offstage], so don't worry.

[Still facing forward] I'm sure I'll dump my parts out every once in while just for old time's sake.

[Rapid footsteps. The calendar falls off the wall just as one of our protagonists is about to head offstage. At the sound of its impact, both jump up and turn to face each other.]

[After a long blink, with no bitterness.] Goodbye.

[Likewise.] Goodbye.

[Silence. One turns and walks offstage. After a moment, the other turns, circles the table, picks up the calendar, reposts it on the wall. It's still December. The remaining protagonist then turns to sit back down at the table, picks up the box lid and considers the picture, then flips it over and sweeps a handful of stray, loose parts into the box top. The protagonist then lifts up the Swiss-cheesed half of the puzzle by the corner piece and dangles it over the lid until it snaps and falls into the box top with a very heavy, hollow sound. Fade to black.]

Happy Valentine's Day!
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