Heather, perturbed, steps in to the supply closet. She locks the door.
Heather: Fuckinggoddamnjesusshittydickforbrains! Oh God. I...I...oh shit. (Heather doubles over, she almost vomits, almost.) I thought was gonna toss my cookies. (She collects herself. Then goes over to a shelf and from a hidden place pulls out a bottle of vodka. She takes a big tug and then puts it back. She then gets it back out and takes another tug.) Oh. Okay. O-kay. (She hides the bottle.) So, yeah, he, uh, he left his wife. Can you believe that? HE LEFT HIS WIFE! They've got kids, two. I don't know their names. I don't want to know there names. I don't even want to know him anymore. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Oh shit. He just told me, in the break room. He left her last night. He actually called me right after he' did it but I didn't pick up because I didn't want to talk to him. This big steaming pile of crap is all my fault. I had sex with him again. I know. I know. I know it was wrong. It's just. He's so eager please. It's sad and I...I've been taking advantage of that. (Heather sits on some unopened boxes of supplies.) We did it in a parking garage, last weekend while his wife went to the thing. It was so clumsly and uncomfortable and sweaty, it reminded me of my first time...with Robby Mitchell. Robby was so in love with me. Glorious, handsome, blue-eyed Robby...I treated him like shit too. Jesus. You know what Bill said to me after we were done? He said, "I've never felt as alive as I do when I'm with you." I should have told him then, that I don't feel the same, that I'm just using him, and that we're both desperate and pathetic but I didn't. I told him he was sweet. I actually meant it but it was the wrong thing to say. (There's a quiet knock at the closet door. Heather jumps to her feet.). Oh shit. I can't do this.(Heather grabs the vodka from her hiding place again) I can't do this with him. (Heather, her back against the door, slumps down onto the floor.) I can't. (She drinks.)