Dusk; JAREL is sitting on the front steps of an old farmhouse, a building once almost elegant, now genteelly collapsing, its midwestern rococo gingerbread hanging in many places by a single, disinterested, rusty nail. The porch behind JAREL is small; its only piece of furniture is an ancient, unravelling wicker table, also seedy, with several wine bottles on it. JAREL is wearing funeral black - but she has not at all muted her makeup, and she wears plenteous beads and bracelets.

JAREL

(Calling into the house) Did you find it yet?

CAIN

(Entering; still wearing the conductor’s suit, but not the hat) Funny thing, I forgot how small this house is.

JAREL

You’re suppose to be a big boy now, remember.

CAIN

I can remember standing on the side porch when it rained. Whenever it rains I think of the side por…