Our view is of a bedroom. It is dark. From what we can see through the gloom it is an expensive looking room tastefully furnished in an obviously feminine style. Two naked figures are sprawled asleep on the bed, their clothes are scattered on the floor. There is a balcony window. Through the partly drawn curtains there is the glimmer of daylight. The male figure on the bed turns, stirs, and carefully and quietly stands and begins to dress. The sleeping woman starts awake.
Are you going? It’s not yet day.
It is day look, love, at the morning light. I must be gone and live or stay and die.
It is not day! I know it is not. It is still night.
It’s fine. I will stay and die if you wish it so. Let’s talk my love it is not day.
It is day! It is! Be gone, please, be gone.
There is a gentle knocking on the bedroom door
Khunjulwa! Are you awake?
Whispering. It’s my mother please go, go.
I will be in touch every chance I get.
You must be in touch every minute of every hour of every day. I am so scared.
(He kisses her) Opens the balcony window and climbs out.
More knocking on the bedroom door.
Khunjulwa: I am coming.
She watches him go.