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Prufrock: You walk the way I do through like--staggering along with uncomfortable flippers. Meursault: Maybe you've got the wrong size. Prufrock: My life doesn't come in other sizes. In fact, I'm trying hopelessly to fit into the "one-size-fits-all." Meursault: Does it fit? Prufrock: Not any better than my overused lines and uncomfortable silences. Meursault: How do they fit? Prufrock: Like unfitting flippers--they make me clumsy. I feel like I'm going to fall flat on my face before someone realizes that my handicap is the unfitting flippers on my feet. Meursault: Maybe it's easier to swim with them in water than to use them on land (he tests his ability to run in flippers, his scuba gear bouncing against his body and dragging on the deck) Yep, definitely easier to swim. Prufrock: But I can't swim and breath, too. Meursault: Then pick one, gasp at your precious air or swim simply underwater. That's where the unfitting flippers fit. (He dives in, leaving Prufrock standing on the deck, unable to decide whether or not to jump in. He glances at his watch and takes a tentative step towards the edge. Then he sits down, dangling his flippers where the waves make them float easily, but he resists, sitting there looking out at the gracefully-rolling sea and not moving.) --Hannah Rohde |
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