[SCENE: The Anthropologie on Fifth Avenue and 16th Street in New York City. Spotlight opens on a WOMAN in her late 20s who typically buys bottles of $7 Chateau Diana wine from the bodega across the street from her apartment as gifts. This year, having remembered that candles exist and can also be given as gifts, she has ventured to Anthropologie to stock up on $20 candles for her friends and co-workers. She is anticipating a quick and easy trip.]
WOMAN: [Entering store] Here I am at Anthropologie. I am anticipating a quick and easy trip. [Stops in her tracks]
[Aghast, WOMAN looks in horror at the store’s checkout line. Zigging and zagging throughout much of the store, it contains dozens of women in yoga pants and down jackets, each holding candles.]
WOMAN: Do I brave this line? Or do I return another day? [Long pause] Fuck it.
[Grabbing the first three candles she sees, she proceeds to the back of the line, where she stands next to a table of plates. There’s a monogrammed mug with the letter “R” on it that some poor soul clearly abandoned after realizing that the line was not worth dying in. The line continues to grow as more and more women join.]
WOMAN IN YOGA PANTS: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this line is crazy.
WOMAN CARRYING YOGA MAT AND ALSO WEARING YOGA PANTS: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this line is insane.
ANOTHER WOMAN IN YOGA PANTS: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this line is insane.
ANOTHER YOGA PANTS-ED WOMAN: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this line is —
AND ANOTHER WOMAN IN YOGA PANTS: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this line —
WOMAN IN JEGGINGS: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god, this —
YET ANOTHER YOGA-PANTS WOMAN: [Joins line, holding candle] Oh my god —
[WOMAN dies. At her funeral, her friends honor her memory by lighting Anthropologie candles.]
