Yves. Who is that crying?
Simona. Mr. Ceder. He just lost one of his sons in a car accident.
Yves. Are you serious? That’s horrible.
Simona. I went over, but he wanted to be by himself.
Yves. How old was his son?
Simona. He was in college studying to be a linguist. I think he knew like six different languages.
Yves. Did you know him?
Simona. Not really. I occasionally bumped into him during the holidays. That’s about it.
Yves. I don’t think we should stay here.
Simona. I know. That’s why I called. I’ve been listening to Mr. Ceder cry all day. I’m paralyzed by it. All I could do is listen to him cry.
Yves. You’ve been listening all day?
Simona. Yeah, but it’s weird. I’m not just sitting here listening to him cry. I’ve been keeping myself busy. I made breakfast and lunch, did the dishes, ironed a couple shirts, finished a novel, and wrote two letters.
Yves. All while listening to Mr. Ceder cry?
Simona. Listen to him. There’s nothing I can do to help him. I don’t think he’ll be able to recover from this.
Yves. Come on. Let’s go out and get something to eat.
Simona. I could make something here.
Yves. Let’s go out. Get some fresh air.
Simona. It would be great to know six different languages, to be able to travel and live practically anywhere.
Yves. Hey, let’s go mail those letters out.
Simona. Est-ce que je puis voir le menu?
End. May I See the Menu?
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