What affinity for happiness? The hidden passion behind black duct tape, are you invisible or a secret well-kept? Tom says it's like slicing a red onion - driven by desire, self-inflicted. Dick says it's like free-falling from a building - no harness, no plans, powered by impulse, self-inflicted. Harry says I'm like a facial cleansing kit, missing a toner - perfectly functional, difference not seen, but felt. Three knocks on the door and through the peep hole, I see Hope. There, I am asking him to leave. The mailman greets me with mail from Love, there, I am refusing him. From the 27th floor balcony, I see a smiling figure waving from below. Here, I want to fall. My affinity for happiness Tom Dick and Harry couldn't see.

Dismantle the stage, lower the chandelier, stack the chairs. This is now a suicide scene.