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	Decision an unimportant play Characters Jeff - 15 years old. wearing a black and green flannel shirt with a white shirt underneath, faded, but not torn. jeans, and laced boots. hair is uncombed, but clean. Marty - same age as Jeff. wearing a solid white long sleeved pullover tee-shirt with a lettered tee-shirt underneath, showing through. tight black jeans and the shoes have ripped laces. hair is also uncombed, but clean. his lips are slightly chapped Scene Afternoon on an autumn day. Cool but not windy, long sleeve shirt weather, but no coats. Leaves are beginning to change and the sky is clear. Marty and Jeff have just met at their usual corner, in the downtown area near their working class neighborhoods. The sidewalks meet at right angles, but only one proceeds to the street at each corner. Marty stands in the street and Jeff is sitting on the curb. The street is well kept, but does have a few small potholes. Marty approaches Jeff, his walk is laid back and he slouches a little. He picks at a hangnail and then puts his hands in his pockets. Marty: Hey Jeff.



	Jeff: (stretching and yawning, with mouth very wide open) Hi. So what are we going to do tonight? I thought maybe we'd go see a movie. Jeff reaches in his back pocket, apparently searching for money. He sniffs as he does so, and puts his other hand in one of his front pockets, pulling out Kleenex. A jogger goes running by, dressed in magenta pants and a white tee shirt. He stubbles slightly on a crack in the pavement about ten feet down from where Jeff and Marty are standing. Marty: (scratching his head, behind the ear) Maybe. What's showing? Jeff takes his hand out of his back pocket and blows his nose, using both hands. Jeff: I heard there's a movie call "Greg's Day" that's pretty good. I'm not sure what it's about though. Jeff throws his Kleenex into a nearby trash can and continues searching for cash in his pockets. He shifts his feet and squints at the sun. Marty: (Shaking his head lazily) No, I don't want to see that one. (furrows his brow and looks down, then brightens). Hey, what about the arcade? Jeff pulls five dollars out of his back pocket and a crumpled ten dollar bill in his other front pocket (not the one he got his Kleenex from). He absentmindedly 'counts' his money, which the light wind folds laterally in his hand. Marty scratches his chest three times and stretches backward. Jeff: Alright. Let's head to the arcade. (Tucks the cash into his right front pocket and begins to exit the stage. Both kick at stones in the road as they exit.) Fin.

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