“Do you know what the first rule of playwriting is?” Cyrus shook his head, barely. Even allowing Gabe’s questions felt like a concession. “You never send a character onstage without knowing what they want.” Cyrus frowned. “I know what I want,” he said. “Do you?” Gabe was hunched over, his big palms flat on the round table making it look like a wooden dinner plate. “I want to matter,” Cyrus whispered.
