a: I’ve watched myself die seventy-two times. It comes on at 5:46 every evening – just before the news.
b: How do you know it’s you?
a: I know.
b: What is it that you see?
a: A bus, a bomb.
b: A bus?
a: My bus. The 188 from North Greenwhich.
b: I don’t understand, how can you have watched yourself die?
a: Nor did I, until I saw it, before the news.
b: It comes on every night?
a: Every night.
b: You watch it every night?
a: Aren’t you supposed to ask me how I feel about it?
b: (beat) How do you – What’s it like to watch yourself die?
b: In what sense?
a: Like re-living a memory.
b: Maybe that’s all it is.
A past memory, a nightmare.
a: My dreams have never aired before.
Can anyone else see it?
a: No. You’ve never seen your death?
a: I didn’t think it was normal.
b: What do you think it means?
a: I hoped you may know.
b: It’s not something I… I’ve no precedent.
a: Well you know what they say.
a: The lord works in mysterious ways.
b: I’ve never heard of him working on day-time TV.
Do you think I should see a priest?
b: If you feel that would help.
a: I’ve never been a religious man.
b: It’s not necessarily something I can give advice on.
a: I suppose not.
b: But if you think you know how you’re going to die can’t you just, well, avoid it?
a: Cheat death?
b: I suppose, yes.
a: No one cheats death.
b: But it’s given you an opportunity. No?
a: I take the 188 every day.
b: You’re still taking the bus.
a: It’s my bus I-
a: Familiarity: it will happen.
b: Familiarity: it has happened.