1. A hospital room in a Chicago suburb. The room's dark, no lights on. The only light coming in is from the cracked blinds of a window. There's a man lying in bed, he's 72 years old. His face is worn and tired, his skin is wrinkled and his hair is white. He's dying of cancer.

The man's breathing heavily and coughing violently. His name's Ben Fritz. A nurse walks in and turns on the light. 

Nurse: Ben, there's a visitor here to see you. He's with the music therapy program. 

Ben: (out of breath) Music therapy? What the fuck's he gonna do? Pay homage to me? Tell him to get the hell outta here. 

Nurse: That's no way to talk, after all. It wasn't the hospital's decision for him to see you. Your family paid him to come here and visit with you. So unless you want to call them...

Ben: (interrupting the nurse) Get the hell outta here, and send him in. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. 

The nurse exits the room and a skinny young man nervously enters the room with a guitar case, he's about 23 years old. His name's Ronald. Ben immediately motions to him to take a seat. 

Ben: Sit your ass down there and leave me the hell alone. Don't tell anyone about it. You can leave in half an hour. Say you performed your esteemed duties. I'll say the same. Got it?

Ronald:(with a puzzled look about him) Aww, come on sir. That wouldn't be fair, you've got to let me earn my money. I'm with the musica therapy program, there's got to be a song you'd like to hear. 

Ben: Look, I'm dying. What I don't need is to be patronized by music. I'm 72 years old and I've earned the right to die on my own terms. My sister thinks music is going to ease my pain? I really just want to be left alone. 

Ronald: Well, I can certainly understand where you're coming from, and believe me I respect your wishes. So if that's the way you want it and you're sure. Then that's how it will be. But I've got time to kill. 

Ronald puts down the guitar case. 

Ben: (motions) Could you get me a glass of water? These nurses 'round here ain't earnin' their pay. I'll tell you that much. 

Ronald picks up a cup and leaves the room momentarily, then returns with a glass of water. He hands it to Ben. 

Ben: (sipping water) That a boy, you ain't such a bad kid after all. What's your name anyways? 

Ronald: Ronald Caldwell. 

Ben: (extends hand) I'm Benjamin Fritz. Sit down there and let's have a word. 

Ronald takes a seat next to Ben.

Ben: Tell me a little about yourself, where you're from. 

Ronald: Well, I'm 23 years old. And... I was born in Indiana. I came to Chicago after I got out of nursing school. 

Ben: Married? Any family in Chicago? 

Ronald: Nah, neither. I'm here on my own. Job placement, you know? 

Ben:(nods) I've been through Indiana, it's a nice state, peaceful. You don't have people chewing on your god damn ankles every time you turn a corner like this place. These big cities are the worst. When I was a young man, I wanted to get out the door, ya know? Thought I had my head on straight. Shit was I wrong. Came to Chicago when I was barely 20, didn't know a damn thing. Look at me now, hundreds of miles from home. Gonna rot here in this bed under the care of people who only give a shit about me because they're paid to care. These assholes aren't fooling me. I'm just a piece of meat. I'm gonna hold on, though. Hold on longer and longer, just to piss them off. 

Ronald: (laughing) Well, at least you've got some incentive to live. Really though, people aren't that bad around here. I mean, everyone's got their own agenda. But you're gonna find good and bad people whereever you go. 

Ben: What the fuck do you know? Look at ya, just a fat-faced baby. Don't tell me about people, I know people. People are like maggots with personalities. They all want to subside on the same piece of meat like the fucking leeches that they are. I've seen unthinkable acts performed by these good people you're referring to. This fucking world's backwards, everything about it.

Ronald: Well, since you're intent on being that way. Why don't you tell me about it? Enlighten a young one. I'm supposed to be here for a while anyway. 

Ben: (coughs violently) When you're young in this world, they keep you in line by installing fear into you. Give you boundaries, insecurities. "Don't do that or you'll get in trouble, You're never going to amount to a god damn thing, You're going straight to hell when you die". Shit like that? You know?

Ronald nods.

Ben: If I've learned a single god damn thing in 72 years of living it's that you've gotta go through this life fearless. Or you're being taken for a fool. Fear will eat the fucking heart right out of a good man. It's a disease that's off the charts. You think of the people in their little homes, wasting day after day afraid of something, some bullshit. Be fearless, Ronald. Don't even be afraid of a cynical old fuck like myself. 

Ronald: (smiles) Ha, you're not cynical. You're a good guy as far as I can tell. You get many visitors?

Ben: My sister's family, that's about it. She comes in a couple times a week, I guess she was responsible for you being here. 

Ronald: No wife? Never married?

Ben: She died.. a very long time ago. I never remarried, never looked at another woman. You know? I mean, that was it for me. She was a great woman, greater than I ever deserved. Kind, beautiful. It would have been an insult to myself an her memory to even think of another woman. Let me tell you, once you've had a companion like that. Your cup's full.

Ben pauses for a moment and looks out his window

Ben: She had jet black long hair, and skin like a porcelain doll. And a smile, a smile that could remedy a thousand woes. I never deserved her. I never deserved a god damn thing. 

Ronald: If you don't mind me asking, How'd she die? 

Ben: Car wreck, 1965. She used to work at a plant nursery and she was coming home one evening, a drunk ran a stop sign and torpedoed right into her car. That was it, killed her instantly. The son of a bitch who did it's probably walking the streets to this day. How's that for justice? Haha. 

Ronald: for what it's worth, I'm sorry. 

Ben: Sorry? Keep your sorry to yourself. Sorry never did accomplish shit. 

Ronald: Very well, point taken. 

Ben starts a laugh that ends up as a cough. 

Ben: It ain't right, you know? It ain't right that I'm gonna die in this shithole. It ain't right that anyone should die in these places. Why can't we die in familiarity at least? 

Ronald: I don't know, you're right.