Act I
Scene: A dimly lit room. Lisa sits quietly on a chair, watching the rain drizzle down the window. Michael enters, his gaze drifting away from her, lost in his own thoughts.
Michael (sighing, almost to himself): “Anna loves Smith. Neither am I Smith, nor are you, Anna.”
Lisa looks up, her heart sinking as she senses the distance in his voice.
Lisa (softly): “But what does Anna see in Smith that you…that we don’t?”
Michael sits beside her, his expression a mix of admiration and quiet frustration.
Michael: “Anna’s got this idea of Smith. She thinks of him as perfect—as if becoming Anna Smith would solve everything.”
Lisa: “And if you were Smith…would that be enough?”
Michael doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes. Lisa’s eyes drop, and she wraps her arms around herself, feeling her own quiet longing pressed between them.
Act II
Anna enters the room, looking radiant yet burdened, as though carrying the weight of her infatuation for Smith. Michael stands and walks over to her, his eyes softening.
Michael: “Anna, why does it have to be Smith? Why not someone who’s right here?”
Anna (smiling, but distant): “Smith just feels like…I don’t know, like a missing piece. I could become myself—Anna Smith—with him.”
Michael looks at her, knowing he’ll never be her Smith. Lisa, still seated, watches this unfold, her heart breaking silently.
Act III
Smith doesn’t appear on stage, but his presence is felt in each character’s gaze and words. As the rain continues to fall outside, each person remains tethered to their longing, caught in the web of desires that can never align.
Act IV
Each character remains in the room, yet turns inward, their voices shifting into a quiet soliloquy, as though they are speaking only to themselves.
Lisa’s Soliloquy
Lisa glances at Michael, her heart heavy but accustomed to the familiar ache.
Lisa:
“How easy it is to sit here, just on the edge of his world. Always near enough, yet never close enough. I watch him drift further every time he mentions Anna, his voice softened by a love I’ll never know.
It’s funny, though, how he doesn’t see me. Doesn’t know how, for years, he’s been the center of my world. I want to scream it, to tell him…but no, I’m always the friend, the listener, the shadow.
If I told him, would it even change a thing? Or would he look at me with that same, distant kindness? Maybe it’s easier this way, to love him from afar, to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
She looks down, her fingers tracing circles on her lap, the faintest trace of a tear in her eye.
Michael’s Soliloquy
Michael stands by the window, his eyes unfocused as he stares out into the rain.
Michael:
“Anna. Even saying her name feels like I’m tasting something forbidden, something out of reach. She’s right there, close enough to touch, yet she’s got her heart tied to Smith, a man she barely knows. And I—I’m caught in the middle, pretending her words don’t cut right through me.
If I could be Smith…if I could become whatever she wants him to be, I would. In a heartbeat. But she’ll never see me that way. To her, I’m just…Michael. A friend, someone to listen, to laugh with. Never more.
I wonder sometimes, what it would be like if she turned, just once, and looked at me the way she looks at him. Would that be enough? Or would I still feel like I’m living in someone else’s shadow?”
He closes his eyes, caught between desire and resignation.
Anna’s Soliloquy
Anna stands alone, her eyes distant, a faint smile on her lips as she thinks of Smith.
Anna:
“Smith…the very thought of him feels like a dream, like the answer to a question I’ve carried my whole life. He’s mysterious, strong, everything I want. I see a future in his eyes, a promise of becoming something more than I am now. Anna Smith.
But what is it I truly want? Is it Smith, or is it the version of myself I imagine by his side? Am I chasing him, or just an ideal I’ve painted in my mind?
And then there’s Michael. Sweet, patient Michael, always there, always waiting. I know he cares for me, and in another life, maybe that would be enough. But I can’t settle for ‘maybe.’ Not when there’s something out there that feels…bigger.”
Her eyes drift to Michael, a fleeting look of regret flickering before she turns away again.
Narrator’s Soliloquy
The Narrator steps forward, observing the three from a distance, an almost omniscient figure.
Narrator:
“It’s tragic, isn’t it? How they stand here, bound together by invisible strings of unspoken love. Each of them caught in a cycle of hope and disappointment, seeing the other but never truly seeing.
Lisa, with her quiet heart, forever yearning. Michael, the dreamer, longing for a love that slips through his fingers. And Anna, forever chasing the phantom of an ideal she may never find.
If only they could see one another. Truly see. But perhaps that’s love’s cruelest trick: blinding us to what’s right in front of us, while our hearts chase shadows.”
He steps back, leaving the characters in their own silent reveries.
Act V
As the rain continues outside, each character is left with their own thoughts, none of them any closer to reaching the person they love. The silence in the room holds their unspoken words, their hidden desires, and the faint glimmer of what might have been.
Mr. Monologue 
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