It is dusk. A woman sits alone on a park bench. The park is empty, at least from her view. She has no idea if anyone is behind her, but refrains from turning around to see. She wants to find out, but by the same token, doesn't care.
She wrings her hands, then decides she needs a cigarette and digs in her purse until she gets hold of a lighter and shakes a cigarette out of the pack. Grasping both, she puts the cigarette to her lips with trembling hands. She drops the lighter several times and finally gets hold of it with both hands and finally manages to get the cigarette lit.
She leans back on the park bench trying to relax, but to no avail. Instead, she shifts nervously. Her watery, bloodshot eyes continue to examine her front and side views. She no longer has any desire to look behind her. By now, she is paranoid, expecting the horror that only she knows about.
She wrings her hands, then decides she needs a cigarette and digs in her purse until she gets hold of a lighter and shakes a cigarette out of the pack. Grasping both, she puts the cigarette to her lips with trembling hands. She drops the lighter several times and finally gets hold of it with both hands and finally manages to get the cigarette lit.
She leans back on the park bench trying to relax, but to no avail. Instead, she shifts nervously. Her watery, bloodshot eyes continue to examine her front and side views. She no longer has any desire to look behind her. By now, she is paranoid, expecting the horror that only she knows about.
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