Peer Review by BizzleWrites (Australia)

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Meet me at Dewey's.

By: MarSan

Scene 1
A convenience store next to a roadside gas station, illuminated by white LED lights. Outside, a pink neon sign reads “Dewey’s”. On the left side, a door that leads into a small canteen, inside patrons sit and talk in low murmurs, their chatter is drowned out by a pop song coming out the speakers. They appear tired, some of them have suitcases by their feet. No one really knows where they are, but they won’t stay for long. By all accounts, it’s a place meant to be forgotten. 
At the side of the cookie aisle, a YOUNG WOMAN grabs a polystyrene cup and pours coffee on it. Her hair is disheveled, she wears a stained shirt paired up with baggy jeans. She turns towards the audience while fidgeting with a sugar packet, her brows furrowed and stare lost. 
An EMPLOYEE enters through a back door and starts wiping the counter, the YOUNG WOMAN is startled. She looks at her coffee, and up again. She walks up towards him. 
(distracted, clutching the cup of coffee tightly)
Hey, have you got any half&half packets? 
The EMPLOYEE grunts and walks through the back door again. The YOUNG WOMAN sighs and rests her head on the counter. 
A GIRL walks in from the right side of the stage, a bell jingles as she pushes the door open. She’s wearing an oversized jacket, her hair as messy as the YOUNG WOMAN’s. When she hears her, the YOUNG WOMAN looks up and jumps. She rushes to move away, her eyes wide open in alarm. She doesn’t notice she’s let go of the cup until it hits the floor and splashes her jeans. 
                                                              YOUNG WOMAN 
Ah, shit!
(amused, calm) 
How many tries at a cup of coffee are those now? 
(frowning, a bit breathless)
One. (a cough) Only one. 
Are you sure? 
 Why do you care? Who are you? 
The GIRL walks closer, and the YOUNG WOMAN inches away. She bends down to pick up the cup. 
Who does it look like I am? 
YOUNG WOMAN opens and closes her mouth several times as if she couldn’t find the right words. 
My dead sister. But it doesn’t make sense, ‘cause the hallucinations, they- (she swallows) I don’t get them anymore.
Then, who do you think I am? 
(confused, anxious) 
How am I to know? God? The devil? Christ, I’m just trying to get coffee. 
No, you’re not. And, no I’m not. I’m DEATH, but you already knew that. 
The YOUNG WOMAN stares at DEATH in silence. She walks back towards the aisle and takes another cup. In the canteen, people are starting to pick up their belongings and head towards the door. 

So you’re here for me, then. 
‘Fraid not. I’m here to make sure you get on that bus. 
But I am.

No, you’re making a cup of coffee after another, like a loser. 
The YOUNG WOMAN groans and pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. She’s finished stirring the sugar in by now. 

Why does that even matter? Listen, if you want to tell me something, can’t you just say it? I haven’t got half the brains or energy to decipher whatever riddle you’ve got going on, okay? Like, if you’re here to tell me that I’m destined for something, or that I should get my life together, I have a therapist for that. 
I might want to re-think that about not taking your soul yet. 
(not listening, desperate) 

And what’s that about appearing as my dead sister? How dare you, to wear her face to come here and- (a beat) and mock me about being too much of a coward to get inside a stupid bus? It’s like, God, you ever heard of a little compassion? I’m terrified of everything all the time, and the moment I take a break, you decide to come down from heaven or hell, or wherever you’re from, to shit on my coffee?
They both stop and stare at each other in silence. There are unshed tears of frustration in the corners of the YOUNG WOMAN’s eyes. 
That’s the most you’ve talked in about a year. 
I haven’t been so angry in a year. 
They both startle as the EMPLOYEE comes back again. He places the half&half packets in the counter, before he spots the spilled coffee. He grunts once more and walks through the back door a third time. DEATH and the YOUNG WOMAN stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, before they breathe out. 
(rubbing her face) 
Listen, speaking isn’t what I usually do. If people spot me, they usually ask how and when they’ll die. They’re… curious, both about me and life. They think, what comes next? And it the end, it doesn’t matter much, but they still think about it. And I don’t answer. But then I go and see someone like you. You’re not entirely living, because you don’t think of death. You’re scared of it, but not enough to get on that bus. And until you do, you’re stuck in the middle of the road. 
I just… I just need to pay for it, and I’ll be on my way. 
(quietly, mournfully) 
You say that, but if I were you, I'd wear a watch. 
The YOUNG WOMAN looks as if she were to hug DEATH, but at the last second decides against it. She nods, and DEATH gives her one last smile from her sister’s face. The bell rings as she exits the stage. 
When the EMPLOYEE returns, she pays for the coffee and walks back to the canteen. It's been emptied out now. She swallows and sits at a table that’s covered in cups of coffee. She sets the last one down and promptly begins sobbing. 


Peer Review

This was captivating. It touched on the topic of human nature, and the curiosity of what comes next. There is so much left unsaid and that is what is interesting. You also impressed me by mentioning 'the kind of place that is meant to be forgotten', no-one thinks about those places, but they are there.

Depressed. Sad. Tired.

There weren't really any places where you missed things, I think this play is very sad, but that is part of the point.

Keep writing, you are amazing at it.

Reviewer Comments

This play makes you think about the grey people, the ones who sit in the shadows, not being seen or being forgotten immediately. Once again, let me say how good this work is.