"Don't say it."
Beat.
"Don't say it. I know you're going to. I know as soon as I stop talking you're going to stand up and face me and say it."
Beat.
"Don't. Say. It. And
stop looking at me like that, too. Like you pity me."
Beat.
"Like I said, as soon as I stop talking you're...you're just going to do it."
Beat.
"Fine. Then I won't give you a chance. I'll just...keep talking. That's it. And then you won't be able to. So...what shall we talk about on this fine day? Hmm? Don't you dare smile, that wasn't supposed to be funny. On this fine day, we shall talk about...about...me. I think...I think that I am amazing. Don't you? Stop smiling. I am amazing. Today while I was weeding the garden I was sitting under the sun and I wore that new straw hat, the one my mom bought, and everyone just had to stop by and say how great my garden was, when, in all truth, it sucked, but they were only saying that because I looked so amazing. So, you see, you're lucky that I'm even talking to you. I guess in all other circumstances you should be talking back, but, see, I'm not going to let you. Because...b-because..."
Beat.
"Because I-I...I know what you'll say."
Silence.
"You didn't say it. I paused, and you didn't say it. I-is it because I-I'm crying? Is th-that why?"
Beat.
"Is it because I'm sitting here on the floor, crying over you, over talking to myself? Or is that not good enough for you?"
Silence.
"I guess it isn't."