a tiny friday creative drama

[The Creative Corner on the 4th floor of a tower somewhere in West London, just before 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon.]


“That’s not my plastic bag. It’s Tim’s”

“Shut up. It’s not mine”

“Yes it is. It’s got your tomato sticker from lunch on it. And all these cups – they are not mine.”

“ Yeah, well they’re not mine either, Annika.”

“Yes they are”

“No, they’re not. This one’s got tea in it and I’ve not had tea in ages. What, so you're saying people come and put their cups on your desk in the night?”

“Seriously they are not mine. I don’t drink 3 cups a day. And see all these books? That’s Gurdeep’s, that’s Amy’s and that is someone else’s. Seriously, people just come and put stuff on my desk.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Coz’ people just like sitting in my seat, okay?”

[Silence. Knowing looks. Pointed shuffling of tea cups. More silence. More pointed crockery shuffling]