The Reunion

Evening in Sausalito, the Bay Area: The sunset is blocked by a cloudy sky, and the house is
surrounded by overgrown cucumber plants. MIA is in the kitchen, making cupcakes and
humming to herself. A battered radio plays on the kitchen counter.
Radio Broadcaster: (slowly fading in) Now for the daily essential items update: All supermarkets
in the Bay Area have run out of napkins and kitchen towels. Authorities estimate that new
supplies will take three to four days to arrive.
As the radio continues to play, Mia freezes in the middle of wiping down the wet countertop. She
stares at the radio, then at the paper towel in her hand, and carefully wrings the towel dry,
hanging it on the rack.
Radio Broadcaster: Local fresh fruit has also run out, and locals are resorting to freeze-dried,
packaged fruits. The new government has unveiled plans to build new factories for drying and
processing fruits to meet the growing demands brought on by natural disasters…
CHRISTOPHER knocks on the door. He is holding several pieces of paper and a thin,
pocket-sized paper package.
Mia: Who is it?
Christopher: Hello? This is Lieutenant Christopher Sanders from the United States Department
of Defense. I’m looking for someone by the name of Mia Wang.
Mia: Oh! Oh! Christopher!
Mia turns the radio off and rushes out of the kitchen. She checks through the eyehole then flings
the door open, pulling Christopher into a tight embrace. Christopher tries to reciprocate, but
struggles because his arms are full.
Mia: (letting go) Christopher! You’re here! / It’s been so long!
Christopher: Yeah, I know, right? / It’s really been a while.
Mia: Yeah! Yeah! Really! It’s been a really long… (trying to think of a word) time.
Christopher: Right, uh you see…

Mia: Well, come on in!
Mia rushes back into the house, leaving the door ajar.
Mia: Sorry, it’s quite messy. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I lost my Roomba 12, and I just
haven’t been able to get it replaced yet. It’s just been hectic, I’m all over the place.
She turns around and sees Christopher still hovering at the doorway.
Mia: What are you doing? Come in!
Christopher: Au— Mia? Ms. Wang? I actually / have something to… (trailing off)
Mia: I have some cookies that I made from last night! Come in, come in!
Christopher: Wait, I… oh alright, fine.
Closing the door behind him, Christopher takes his shoes off and places them neatly on the shoe
shelf.
Mia: Have a seat on the couch, Christopher! I’ll be right with you!
Christopher doesn’t sit, and instead fidgets with the papers and the package in his hands.
Christopher: Could I, maybe, possibly help you with anything?
Mia: Oh no, stay right where you are! I’ll take care of everything.
Christopher: No, no, I insist! How about uh, let’s both sit down maybe? A lot to catch up on…
(fidgeting more with the items in his hands) Aunty Mia! Please don’t bother with the cookies, I
just ate dinner! It’s really okay—
Mia: Don’t tell me what to do in my house, Christopher, you will eat these cookies, like it or not.
Christopher: Right. Boss of the house.
Christopher folds up the papers and places them, along with the small package, into the inside
pocket of his uniform. Stealing glances over at Mia still in the kitchen, he begins to rock back
and forth on his feet. The rocking and glancing become increasingly exaggerated over time. Mia

finally hurries in with a plate half full of cookies and two glasses of milk. Christopher instantly
stills himself.
Christopher: Wow! Oh nice, these cookies… they look delicious! You made them yourself?
Mia: Yes! Yes! They aren’t as fresh as they were last night, but they’re still good. Maple syrup
cookies: traditional, Quebec, pecan drop style.
Christopher: Oh! Nice, nice…
Mia: Go on, take one! There’s plenty and I can’t eat them all by myself.
Christopher: (as if snapping out of a daze) Right. I’ll just take… one…
Christopher takes a cookie from the plate but doesn’t seem to register the fact that he has
something edible in his hands. He stares at it blankly.
Mia: Well? Try it!
Christopher: Mm! It’s (between bites) very good!
Mia: Come, sit! And have some more!
Mia whisks the plate of cookies past Christopher and sets it on the coffee table. Christopher
turns to face Mia instead, making no move toward the couch. He starts to fidget again.
Christopher: So, Aunty Mia. The war ended.
Mia: Yes, I don’t live under a rock, Christopher. I heard a couple months ago.
Christopher: Only a couple months? The war ended… four months ago.
Mia: Well, they only restored the internet in this area two months ago.
Christopher: Fair. Alright then. Well, you see…
Mia: Yes?

Christopher: So, basically the new government— I mean, the Secretary of the Army, the new
one, he wanted to reconnect soldiers with their families, and provide support where it’s due
and—
Mia: Oh! So, the government let you go? No wonder you could visit!
Christopher: No, not really. I mean, sort of? I, well, it’s more about…
Mia: (smiling broadly at him) Yes?
Christopher: It’s about, well I, uh, it’s… me.
Mia: …You? What about you?
Christopher: Me, my, uh, my travels. And stories.
Mia: Your stories! Come tell me about them! I’m sure you have a lot.
Mia pats the couch cushion beside her.
Christopher: There’s something else too… yeah sure, we can start with my stories.
Christopher sits down next to Mia. He taps on his knee and makes a face.
Christopher: Ah, where should I begin?
Mia: What, are you going blank?
Christopher: Yeah. There’s just… so much to tell. It’s kind of overwhelming.
Mia: I’d still love to hear them. I’m free all day! You can stay for the night too, if you’d like.
Luke’s old room is nice and clean.
Christopher: (swallows) Right… Luke.
Christopher shifts in his seat. His eyes dart around wildly, searching for something to talk about.
Christopher: Ah, are you making a cake?

Christopher points to the kitchen counter, which is coated with flour, eggshells, and spilled
splotches of milk.
Mia: Yep, I was making cupcakes before you got here. Tomorrow is October 1st

. Right, I gotta

finish up or else the batter is gonna to sit too long.
Mia hurries toward the kitchen counter.
Christopher: I’m sorry, Aunty Mia, I don’t really remember. Is October 1st your birthday or…?
Mia: Oh, no! My birthday is in the spring. October 1st

is China’s birthday. Back in my
hometown, they would throw lush feasts for a week! A few cupcakes were the least I could do.
(muttering) I really need to finish these up.
Christopher: Ah, do you need some help? Here.
Christopher gets up from the couch and follows Mia to the kitchen.
Mia: Sure! That would be nice, thank you!
Christopher: Oh right! Remember how the first time I met Luke was at a Church activity?
Mia nods. She checks her finished batter one last time and turns around to take a cupcake pan
out of the kitchen cabinets.
Christopher: Well, I asked him if he believed in Jesus. He said no. Instead, he told me he was
atheist, his mother worships Chairman Mao, and his grandpa is a Buddhist.
Mia bursts out laughing in the middle of attempting to open a package of cupcake liners.
Mia: Hoh! That silly child! I worship Chairman Mao? What a crazy notion. Maybe my
grandparents did, but certainly not me.
She shakes her head and continues to wrestle with the packaging. Christopher leans closer.
Christopher: Oh, allow me. So, what do you believe in then?
Christopher successfully opens the package of cupcake liners, and hands her a stack. Mia takes
it and begins fitting the cupcake liners in the holes of the cupcake pan.

Mia: I believe humans make their own decisions, whether or not they do so in the name of some
religious figure is inconsequential. Even if I do like Chairman Mao, I wouldn’t be ludicrous
enough to build a shrine to him, much less go to war against those who disagree with me.
Christopher: I guess that makes sense, if that’s the way you see it.
Both fall silent for a few seconds.
Mia: Oh, can you help me pour the batter in while I—
Christopher: Oh yeah, of course!
Mia: Okay, okay. Great.
Christopher eagerly steps forward and begins pouring the batter from the bowl into the
individual cupcake liners. Mia turns around and checks that the oven had preheated to the right
temperature. It’s good. She shuts— almost slams— the oven door, startling Christopher.
Mia: (sighing) It’s this… this war. This damned war. This pointless, religious war. It should
never have been fought in the first place. Neither side proved their point, and look where we are
now! Rebuilding the country from scratch.
Christopher cocks his head and opens his mouth slightly, as if he plans to object. Mia notices
and rolls her eyes.
Mia: Oh, I know what you’re gonna say, Christopher.
She grabs a dish cloth from the sink and begins wiping down the counter.
Mia: Luke used to talk all the time about his (sarcastic) quote, great, revolutionary ideals. So, I’ll
spare you the need to lecture me about that.
Christopher stiffens at the mention of Luke.
Christopher: If you’re so against the war, why did you let him fight in the first place?
Mia: (shrugs) Hmph. I didn’t. That brat enlisted without telling me. By the time I found out
several months later, he was all the way over in the midwest already. Oklahoma, I think. (shaking
head) I haven’t heard from him in… wow. It’s been three years.

Christopher: I see. Here, the cupcakes are all good to go.
Mia: Oh, oh, good. Thanks.
Mia takes the cupcake pan and whisks it into the oven. Christopher washes his hands free of
batter and flour and dries them on a kitchen towel.
Mia: And now we simply wait, hold on, you didn’t know what happened with Luke? I thought
you two kept in touch?
Christopher: (shaking head) Nope. He fought for the Blues.
Mia: And? You two couldn’t have just…?
She suddenly realizes, stops in the middle of her action, and stares at Christopher.
Mia: You fought on the red side?
Christopher: Yeah.
Mia: (Visibly upset) Wait, what? So, none of you— You two haven’t been in contact since the
war began?
Christopher: Well, we were already on kind of bad terms before the war due to our political
stances and since I joined the Reds a couple years before him… I’d say it’s been six years.
Mia: Then, you— you wouldn’t know his situation then, would you?
Christopher’s hand automatically and unconsciously drifts over to his pocket, where the folded
papers lie. Mia keeps her eyes fixed on his face and doesn’t notice.
Christopher: (hesitant) No, I don’t. I don’t know where he is, what he’s doing, nor how he’s
been.
Mia: …I see.
Another awkward silence stretches between them until Christopher spots the radio.
Christopher: Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask… what’s that?

Mia: The radio?
Christopher: That’s a radio?
Mia: Yeah, I dug it out of my garage a couple years ago. Haven’t you seen a radio before?
Christopher: I have, but— That doesn’t look— I’m pretty sure radios don’t—
Mia: It’s a radio.
Christopher: But—
Mia: It’s a radio, Christopher, from the late 1970s.
Christopher: The 1970s? It’s been, like… seven decades! How does that thing still work?
Mia: Come on, you’re in the army. You guys still communicate with radio waves. The
fundamental medium hasn’t changed, so why wouldn’t an old radio work?
Christopher: But it’s decades old. I guess your family just kept it in pristine condition. Wow, did
radios really look like this?
Mia: Honestly, it outdates me too. It belonged to my uncle.
Christopher nods absent-mindedly, examining the radio. He toggles a switch and accidentally
turns the radio on.
Radio Announcer: (full volume, fast-paced) …Forty-three percent of the area–
Christopher jumps back with a start. Mia covers her ears and grimaces. She attempts to dial
down the volume, but it fluctuates as she fumbles with the machine.
Radio Announcer: –devastated from the California Great Floods just a few months prior.
Combined with the lack of ground vegetation and trees to hold the earth in place, the soil on
many mountainsides loosened in light of recent rains, resulting in seven major landslides yest—
Mia succeeds, and the sound abruptly cuts off.
Christopher: Eh? Why’d you turn it off?

Mia: You want it on?
Christopher: Yeah.
Mia: Why?
Mia turns it on before he can respond.
Radio Announcer: (fading back in) fire department chief, James Tuckerman, says he isn’t
hopeful. “There’s just been too much debris. Not just the rock, but the trees. They’ll come sliding
down at eighty miles an hour, and if you were near the top, you would’ve gotten carried away
and fallen down the canyons. Instant death.”
Mia reaches forward and turns off the radio.
Mia: That’s enough. (sigh) It ruined the mood.
Mia walks away from the radio— and the kitchen. She goes back into the living room and settles
down on the couch. Christopher quickly follows.
Christopher: I mean, it wasn’t that bad.
Mia: (raising an eyebrow) Wasn’t that bad?
Christopher: —No, no, not as in the content. It’s bad, what’s going on over there. Real bad. All
those people dying. It’s just, I didn’t know what was going on here in California. I’ve been very
busy. Very busy. Dealing with… army things. Right. So, I didn’t know. But now I know? I like
the feeling that I know! Like… gosh how do I explain—
Mia: No, it’s alright, I get it. Knowing what’s going on in the world, it makes you feel more
connected?
Christopher: (heavy tone) Sure. Connected. Listening to the news reminded me of eating
breakfast at your house. You always had the TV on. The broadcaster’s voice just made me
nostalgic, I guess.
Mia: (matter-of-factly) Yeah, the good old days. Fun times. The world’s really gone to hell now.
Christopher: I thought it was always this hellish?

Mia: No? Of course not!
Christopher: Really? Besides the war, there hasn’t been much of a change with everything else, I
don’t think. You’ve still got flooding, wildfires, natural disasters, lack of fresh fruit— oh, oh!
Aunty Mia! I was gonna tell you my stories, right? Well here’s one: back in the army, I got to eat
a mango. A fresh mango! I hadn’t touched one of those in years! We got it from one of the
refrigerators of a military base that we took over. It was the general’s, but we got it. My unit ate
all seven and didn’t tell anyone else.
Mia looks down at her hands.
Christopher: Aunty Mia?
Mia: Oh no, it’s nothing. I just… I didn’t realize how different the world was for you growing
up. I was born during a time when fruit and foods all around the globe could be found within a
single grocery store, just sixty square feet. Mangoes were common back then. The sequoia
forests still existed too. They were huge, you know? They averaged between 250 to 300 feet tall.
Christopher: 250 to 300…?
Mia: It’s kind of hard to wrap your head around, huh?
Christopher: Yeah, it is.
Mia: I’ve seen those trees myself, and I still couldn’t comprehend it. How giant they are. It’s
surreal.
Christopher: I can imagine.
Mia: Hah! No, you can’t. The tallest skyscrapers of New York can’t even compare to the sheer
majesty of a sequoia. And the forest was full of these trees! Kings! Imagine… imagine the
influential figures from every single era from every single place— Alexander, Caesar, Octavius,
Genghis Khan, Mansa Musa, Thutmose III, Ashoka, King Louis XIV, Napoleon—
Mia gestures maniacally at the heavens. Christopher stares at her, growing more astounded with
each name drop, many of which he’s forgotten.
Mia: Well, maybe not Napoleon, but imagine them meeting in one giant room! That sort of…
intensity, I suppose. It overwhelms you.

Christopher: I wish I could’ve seen them.
Mia: I wish you could’ve too. But they’re all gone now. The forests in southern California are
burnt to crisp, and up here, they’re flooded, and burned. Your generation, you… you and Luke
must’ve thought this world was on the brink of apocalypse your entire life, huh?
Christopher: I don’t think we’ve approached the apocalypse just yet. Sure, it’s bad right now, but
it’s still manageable. Most of humanity still lives in a much more convenient and comfortable
environment than the pre-industrial world.
Mia: (sighs) I guess I was just born at the peak of comfort then.
Christopher: Maybe. I never really thought of how you were brought up. I suppose everything’s
really weird for you too, huh? Watching the world come crashing down. Really makes
everything seem so delicate.
Mia: Delicate, hmm that’s the right word. Oh yeah! You saw the truck outside, right? It looks so
weird! Like—
Mia snaps her fingers, trying to remember the word.
Christopher: Aluminum foil?
Mia: Yes! Precisely. It looks like aluminum foil, all crumpled up like that.
Christopher: Delicate, I know. You’d be surprised how delicate tanks are too. I’m surprised your
house held up so well.
Mia: Eh, not really. It was pretty bad. The power is fine for now. They fully restored the lines just
about a month ago. Water’s a different story though. We still don’t have running water since half
of the underground pipes got busted.
Christopher: Ouch.
Mia: I know, right? It’s annoying. You’ve got all this water gushing down the streets, and you
can’t even drink it!
Christopher: That’s pretty ironic.

Mia: Mhm. Ironic and troublesome. The small room in the back of the house fell apart the
second time, and we had to fix it up.
Christopher: What? “Fell apart” as in, the walls came down?
Mia: Well, just one wall. But yeah, it fell.
Christopher: And “fix it up” as in rebuild?
Mia: Yeah?
Christopher: You didn’t hire any contractors?
Mia: Nope! No one around anyway. Surprised?
Christopher: Wow. (pause) Yeah, wow that’s—
Mia: Impressive?
Christopher: Very impressive.
Mia: The government air dropped supplies in the area, and we got all the materials for free,
which is pretty nice. It took us two months.
Christopher jerks up.
Christopher: Wait, did you just say… “us?”
Mia: Yes? I remarried.
The two look at each other. Mia grows more and more mortified.
Mia: Did I never tell you? Oh! (Slapping her forehead) That’s right, I never told you! I married
Ben four years ago, about a year after you enlisted. Wow, it’s really been so long—
Christopher: No, no, wait. Hold on, I… Well, first of all, congratulations! But— I thought…
sorry that was just—
Mia: A huge bombshell?

Christopher grimaces slightly at the term “bombshell.”
Christopher: Yeah, huge… I mean, I’m very happy for you! I thought you might’ve been lonely
all this time, but it seems like you’ve got someone.
Mia: (laughing) You still look shell-shocked.
Christopher grimaces again at the term “shell-shocked.”
Christopher: No, it’s just… I thought when I was younger… Luke, he said that you weren’t ever
remarrying. So, I guess, this is / a bit of a… shock.
Mia: He told you that? I never said that though. When did this happen?
Christopher: (Shrugging) We were both eight or nine, I think, somewhere around that age.
Mia: How do you even remember that?
Christopher: I guess it stuck with me. Anyway, tell me more about Ben! How’d you guys meet?
Mia: Right. Ben’s great. He’s… the most imperfect, perfect husband. Do you know what I mean?
Christopher: No, not really.
Mia: So, you see, he has his faults, but that’s what makes him… perfect for me? I dunno. You’ll
understand when you meet him someday. Here let me find / you our wedding photos.
Mia begins to dig through her shelves. Christopher sits up straighter, looking alarmed.
Christopher: Is he… Aunty Mia, is your husband not coming home today?
Mia: Uhh, no he isn’t. You sound pretty disappointed.
Christopher: No, no, no, I was just thinking maybe… yeah, a bit disappointed, I guess. It
would’ve been nice to meet him. Do you know whether or not he’ll come home anytime soon?
Mia: (absent-mindedly) Nope, he’s in Washington. He works in the government.
Christopher: Eh? The government?

Mia: The new one, yes. Ah, there’s / too many of Luke’s paintings here…
Christopher: Wha— I, what’s his position?
Mia: Yeah.
Christopher: Uh, Aunty Mia? That wasn’t a yes or no ques—
Mia: (snapping back) Oh! Oh! Right, sorry. Ben’s the, uh… Ah, found it!
Mia scoops an old photo album out of a drawer and opens it, flipping through the pages
as she walks back to Christopher.
Mia: He’s the personal assistant to the new Secretary of Veterans’ Affairs, so he can’t really fly
back and forth across the country so easily. Not now, especially, with the war ending. I haven’t
seen him in several months.
Christopher: (masking his disappointment) Wow! Assistant to the new Secretary of… Wait, wait!
Christopher stands up and looks at Mia with a gaping mouth. Mia looks up, startled.
Christopher: What? Assistant to the— Is your husband Benja… Benjamin Darrel?
Mia: You know Ben?
Christopher: (enthusiastically) I met him! Just a few days ago before I came here! At a meeting!
Mia: (sensing something off) You were… at a meeting with him? But I thought you were on
vacation break? Isn’t that what you said earlier?
Christopher: No, no. I never said that. You misunderstood. I actually meant… Well anyway, I
met him. He’s cool.
Mia: Alright. Well, that’s great. But, why were you meeting? Benjamin said he’s been busy with
post-war things for the last several months such as tallying casualties, contacting families, and—
you said you met him at a meeting?
Christopher: (nodding) Right. I… Aunty Mia, why don’t you…
Christopher falters. Mia watches him, unmoving.

Christopher: Why— Why don’t you sit down and…
Mia keeps staring at him, stone-still. Then, her arms drop to her sides. She clutches the photo
album tightly with one hand and forms a tight fist with her other.
Mia: You said you were on break? You came to visit.
Christopher: I didn’t!
Mia: Then you lied to me.
Christopher: Aunty Mia you misunderstood. I just… I just said the Secretary of Defense
wanted… he, I just—
Mia: So out with it! Why are you really here, Christopher, if not on break?
Christopher: I had some business in the area…
Mia: About?
Christopher takes a deep breath. He reaches into his uniform pocket and takes out the papers.
Christopher: I got a new job.
Mia: Should I congratulate you?
Christopher: —As a death notification officer.
Mia registers what she just heard.
Mia: A death notification… So… So, you’re here on business. My house. Here.
Christopher: Yes.
Mia: (pause) What happened to Luke? (long pause) Christopher Sanders!
Mia slams the photo album on the coffee table. Christopher jumps at the sound of the impact.
Mia: Just tell me already! Where is my son?

Christopher: We don’t know! Okay? We don’t know.
Mia: What?
Christopher: He’s MIA. He went missing a year ago during a military operation near Chicago,
the Battle of Arlington Heights. Maybe you’ve heard of it, it was pretty big. Anyway, Luke
disappeared from The Liberal Army’s radar, and they never heard from him again.
Mia: But not confirmed dead? Hey. Hey Christopher! Stop staring at me and just— just tell me!
Is he dead or not?
Christopher: I… I don’t know.
Mia: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Christopher: Luke is—
Mia: Oh my gosh give me that!
She marches forward and snatches the papers out of Christopher’s hands.
Christopher: Aunty, please. I told you! He’s missing.
Mia: (reading) MIA, Chicago… Chicago… went missing… September 16th… during an
airstrike by The Conservative States Army Air Force…. Presumed to be… to be… dead.
Mia sways a little, then stumbles toward the armchair. She collapses into it, leaning her head
back and staring up at the ceiling.
Mia: Dead a year ago… a whole year— More than a year. He—
She chokes on her words, and suddenly finds tears rolling down her cheeks.
Christopher: Aunty… Aunty Mia—
As if his words were a trigger, Mia begins to sob hysterically. She takes the pillow next to her and
throws it on the floor, then buries her head in her hands and continues to bawl. Christopher
stares at her, then flops onto the couch himself, sitting in the spot nearest to Aunty Mia’s
armchair.

Christopher: It isn’t one hundred percent. He could still be—
Mia: Stop it! Stop it!
Mia bangs her hands onto the armrests.
Mia: Just stop! Stop! This stupid war! You and everyone else that fought in this cursed war and
dragged everyone in between into it! Just stop! Just—
Mia swallows, cutting off her sentence. When she makes no effort to continue, Christopher bows
his head. Mia’s tears slow to a trickle after her outburst and she leans back again, staring at the
ceiling.
Christopher: (suddenly remembering) His unit… his fellow soldiers, they, ah, they turned this in.
Christopher reaches into his uniform pocket again and pulls out the paper package. He holds it
out to Mia, who takes it gingerly.
Christopher: It’s all that’s left of his belongings. Everything else was donated and passed on to
new soldiers because they were running out of supplies.
Mia opens the package. It’s a tiny sketchbook. She flips through it.
Christopher: He continued to draw, even after he left for the army. Those are the sights he saw
along the way, the landscapes and events. His lieutenant said he was drawing all the time.
Still, Mia’s expression doesn’t change. She closes the sketchbook, reaches forward, and sets it
down on the coffee table before returning to her original position.
Mia: A long time— several months, maybe a year ago… I had a dream. I saw Luke when he was
a boy. He was standing before an old, graffitied, cement wall. (pause) He had a paintbrush in his
hand and was surrounded by buckets of paint, and just painted and painted and painted on that
wall and— (another pause, another deep breath) and by the time he was done, the wall had
turned into a door. A gate. Luke had also turned from a boy into a man, into a soldier. It was a
beautiful gate. But… But then, Luke opened it… and he just walked through. It was a blood red
bridge on the other side, splattered with tombstones and splotches of blue and white. I couldn’t
move. I could only watch. He got farther and farther away and just— He just… disappeared. Was
this a mother’s instinct? Or some divine figure trying to warn me?

From the kitchen, the oven rings, but neither of them get up to take the cupcakes out. Christopher
shifts in his seat as if trying to decide what to say. After a long time, he settles on something.
Christopher: … I’m sorry.
Mia: You should be. I told you— you and Luke— this war was pointless. So, utterly, utterly
pointless. You two even ended up fighting each other! You!— (pause) Why are you here? Why is
it you, of all people, coming to give me this— this notice?
Christopher: I’m sorry, I was… I was there.
Mia: What?
Christopher: The battle— I was a pilot in the war. For five years, my sole job was dropping
bombs onto the battlefield. That day, when Luke went missing, I was there bombing everything.
I was—
Mia: (quietly) So you killed him?
Christopher: No! Not that! I—
Mia: (voice rising) Then what the hell are you trying to say?
Christopher: I— I’m sorry! I didn’t. I couldn’t have— the chances that— I just, I didn’t kill him.
Mia: You sound awfully sure of that.
Christopher: Aunty Mia, I swear! Even if I was there, there were seventy other pilots—
Mia: (quietly again) Do you believe it?
Christopher: What?
Mia: Do you think that you killed Luke? Your best friend? My son? Did you kill him?
Christopher: I— no, I don’t—
Mia: Liar. Liar, liar, liar. That’s the whole reason why you’re here, huh? You feel guilty. You
know Luke’s not MIA, he’s blown up into smithereens so there’s no body left to find. Right?

Mia stands up. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but her voice is firm. She looks Christopher
straight in the eye, as if searching for something, but he refuses to meet her gaze. She forms a
fist, crumpling the papers in her hands.
Mia: Get out.
Christopher: What?
Mia: Get out of this house.
Christopher: Au-Aunty—
Mia: If I hear you call me that one more time— No, just. Just get out. Now!
Christopher: I truly— I did it for my cause, for what I believed in! Luke also fought for his—
Mia: Stop! If I hear another word of revolutionary doctrine spew from your mouth, I will chase
you out with a crowbar. I told you! Get out! Get out and don’t come back!
Christopher stares at her, eyes wide. His mouth opens and closes, as if trying to find words.
Finally, he swallows and stands.
Christopher: (hoarsely) Okay.
He shuffles toward the door, head hung low, and takes his shoes from the rack. Just as he opens
the door, he turns around and calls one last time to Mia.
Christopher: The cupcakes are ready. You should… take them out of the oven.
Then, he vanishes into the darkness, leaving Mia alone in the living room. Mia stares after
Christopher and the open door, her arms hanging limp at her side. Luke’s crumpled casualty
notice papers fall out of her hand and onto the floor.
The End.