Scene: Claire is swiping her iPad, having just just read a blogpost titled “Hello, I’m Abby, and I’m an Umarried Millennial.” She sighs as Drew walks in from the bedroom.

“Let’s not get married.”

“Okay. Where’d that come from?”

“You are using more than one drawer. That makes me nervous.”

“You have Tagliatelle from last Wednesday at Moto turning into a biology specimen in my refrigerator.”

“Throw it out! You also never fold. I love you, No, actually, I don’t. I told you the first night, I wasn’t signing up for underpants. Especially underpants in the machine with my dishtowels. Who DOES that?”

“It wasn’t intentional. I used bleach. I told you I’m not looking for marriage, either. I have my career. Does this mean I can’t be on your data plan? Have you seen my pocket knife?”

“It’s behind the toaster oven.”

“Whatsit doing there?”

“Same thing your undies are doing with the dishtowels? You don’t have a career, you have a bass.”

“God, I love your wit.”

“I know. You need to call Sprint. I took you off the data plan, I meant to tell you yesterday.”

“WHAT? A little notice would have been nice. You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Serious about what?”

“The marriage thing.”

“Oh, Drew. I can’t do this anymore.”

“You said on the way home from Heather and Gray’s wedding we’re a better couple than them!”

“It was summer and I was needy. Now I’m feeling pressured. Your socks are on my floor.”

“It’s your parents, isn’t it? They hate musicians.”

“It’s EVERYTHING! The fucking student loan! The credit cards! Explaining to my friends why you’re always somewhere else! The b-b-b-beard hair all over the sink! The catbox! You never clean the goddamn catbox! And when we stay at your house I feel like an afterthought, you never even change the sheets!”

“OK, ok. But… well, I might as well say it. I’ve been holding it in a while.”

“Holding in what?”

“You’re a little crazy.”

“WHAT?! GET THE FUCK OUT! You, you fucking Xbox-junkie PIG! God, I can’t believe I ever slept with you.”

“I need my router.”

“Take it! Wait! Will Netflix still work?”

“Nope. You can get one online for $19.”

“Can’t you just leave it here?”

“Claire, I told you, I’m a package deal. This is the exact kind of crazy I’m talking about. Is this my controller? What’s this sticky shit on it?”

“Jelly. It’s grape jelly. Is this really how it ends, you yanking out wires from a TV I can’t figure out how to turn on in the first place? I don’t understand my life! It’s too much, Drew. I need love, not a roommate.”

“So you’re saying you want to sleep with other people?”

“I’M SAYING YOU ARE AN EMOTIONALLY RETARDED, PERPETUALLY BROKE BASS PLAYER WHO’S TURNING ME INTO AN ANGRY CO-DEPENDENT.”

“Oh. OK, then. You can…you can keep the router.”

“I need my key.”

“OMIGOD YOU’RE REALLY KICKING ME OUT.”

“Here’s yours. Goodbye, Drew.”

“You know you’ll never see me again.”

“Goodbye, Drew.”

“You wanna watch some porn? Porn always works for us.”

“NO, you dick, get out!”

“Um, one more thing?”

“WHAT?”

“I’ve been thinking about suicide a lot lately.”

“Then here, take my iPod. Put it on that stupid fucking Dawes song, and go jump off the Shelby Bridge! Take a video! Put it on fucking Vine!”

“Claire, you don’t normally use the F-bomb this much. What’s into you? Besides, that’s stupid, I’ll be dead, how can I put it on Vine?”

“I”LL DO IT.”

“Then they’ll arrest you as an accomplice to a homicide. You’ll be famous, and I’ll just be a cold, waterlogged corpse, still second fiddle to your advanced emotional vulnerability and supreme self awareness.”

“Have you been reading my books again?”

“What books?”

“Wait. You’ve been on my computer, haven’t you? Reading my emails! No one else knows I read the Daily Vinyasa, that was the Tuesday Tao, the vulnerability one.”

“No kidding. Like that Brene Brown thing?”

“No, not like Brene—hey. How do you know about Brene Brown? You ARE reading my emails.”

“No, I’m not. Alan was watching TED videos the other day because he’s still not over Michelle. Man, they’re boring.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s kinda depressed.”

“GOOD, he treated her like shit. Go stay with him.”

“Alan has problems with commitment. And I have an apartment, Claire. I know you always hated driving over to East Nashville to stay there, but…”

“You don’t live in East Nashville, you’re in fucking Gallatin, and you have bugs!”

“I do not have bugs.”

“They’re all over your apartment! I almost threw up the last time I used the bathroom. Can we stop talking? I want you to go.”

“OK, yeah, sure. See you around. Sure you don’t wanna watch some porn?”

“Nooooo…. OMIGOD look, it’s snowing. Go get me some bourbon?”

“Um, okay. I need some money. Anything else?”

“Some lotion? I’m out of lotion.”

“That’s two stops.”

“You know what, Drew? Never mind. I’ll go get them. Go on.”

“Okay, okay! I’m gone. See you at the gig tomorrow night?

“Maybe.”

“I love you.”