现在的孩子都管它叫大麻。它像云彩一样从他的唇边飘过。他希望今晚没有人来，或者打电话寻求帮助。他今晚最缺的就是帮手。暴风雨在外面肆虐。海面汹涌，西侧刮大风。他坐的桌子有两腕尺长，一腕尺宽。房间里的黑暗中充满了洞察力。他可能会写一本冒险小说。或者是一个儿童故事。 A play for two female characters, one of whom is blind. Cutthroat should be coming into the river. One thing he'll do is learn to tie his own flies. Maybe he should give more money to each of his surviving family members. The ones who already expect a little something in the mail first of each month. Every time they write they tell him they're coming up short. He counts heads on his fingers and finds they're all survivng. So what if he'd rather be remembered in the dreams of strangers? He raises his eyes to the skylights where rain hammers on. After a while -- who knows how long? -- his eyes ask that they be closed. And he closes them. But the rain keeps hammering. Is this a cloudburst? Should he do something? Secure the house in some way? Uncle Bo stayed married to Aunt Ruby for 47 years. Then hanged himself. He opens his eyes again. Nothing adds up. It all adds up. How long will this storm go on? Anonymous submission.