SCENE A

The sky is grey, with wisps of blue floating through it. The green skyline is all he can ask for on a day like this. He hopes for beautiful sunsets, and later, the smell of steak on the barbecue.
He sees the sunset through a screen door and a fog of smoke. He smells the barbecue later, when he steps barefoot onto his patio; the barbecued steak is not being made for him. He lights a Camel, though one is already burning in the ashtray inside. He inhales deeply, and exhales through his nose. He scratches his shoulder through his t-shirt and opens the screen door. He wanders through his too-crowded studio apartment, weaving around stacks of books, looking for his phone. He finds it between the T's and the U's.
"Hey mom. It's me, your son, David. Just calling to let you know I'm alive. Pass it on to--"
"No. I'm busy mom; I really don't--"
"Oh Jesus Christ! Fine! Put him on...” His voice gets louder and raspier as the conversation goes on. "No dad. I didn't apply for that job.” There is a pause while he takes a sharp inhale off of his cigarette. "Because that's not for me dad!” Another pause. "Because that's not who I am dad. That's not what I want to do! Why can't you understand that?"
He glares down at the phone, "Oh yeah? Well fuck you too!” The phone flies across the room; the mouthpiece pops off upon impact against the far wall. The earpiece cracks.
"Fuck," he mutters. He pulls the phone cord out of the jack in the wall.
Nothing happens. He expects a change. Nothing. It grows darker outside his window; though not too dark because the streetlamp is in his view.
Gnats and moths spend hours chasing the triangle of light up to the glass. They throw themselves full force into the covering. Sometimes they stick; sometimes they bounce further from their goal than they began. He notices how they persevere. He wants to scream, "Don't you know there's more to it than this?” But he can't.