just a white, sterile box. SWEDEN’S bed is surrounded by a white plastic curtain.
There is a smallish window the shutters of which are open; a plethora of flowers and cards crowd its sill while a cool breeze blows in, ruffling the petals, rattling the paper.
A variety of medical apparatuses gleam coldly in the dim light. The plastic tent flaps
a little.
MANYA:
Father? Abraham’s here.
There is no response. MANYA turns to go; ABE touches her arm.
ABE:
Stay. Please.
MANYA places a hand over his.
MANYA:
This is for the two of you.
I’ll be in the Green Room.
She leaves. ABE stares at the plastic curtain, which ruffles in the breeze.
ABE:
(approaches
the window)
I’ll shut these...
He pauses at the sill, looking at the buildings which encroach on all sides. They are on the seco
