Character: AGLAONIKE, a young woman.
Tiger!?
(AGLAONIKE begins to follow Tiger. Suddenly: The sound of hissing snakes comes from where Tiger exited. AGLAONIKE chants as she follows:)
I am not afraid. Not afraid. Not afraid. I’ll be brave. Brave. Brave. Brave.
(SHE is gone for a moment. Then SHE returns. SHE paces in circles as SHE muses:)
Tiger gone. Can’t be gone. A girl needs her tiger. A tiger needs his girl.
(Inspecting herself.)
Hands, elbows, fingers, feet, but without him I’m incomplete. I look whole but feel halved. One plus one equals two, but two minus one equals none. There’s a hole in my soul—but that’s illogical. The soul’s intangible; it can’t be torn. It’s not math; it’s a metaphor. Or my computation is mistaken: It’s not subtraction but division. I’m not diminished but divided. I’m an illegal fraction. Aglaonike over Tiger—like a zero divisor: an impossible equation.
Sure she’s a better dancer. Who wouldn’t be with a swishy tail? I’d bet she’s a better tree climber, too. But I can solve equations. And I can chart the moon.
(Gazing at the sky.)
Sisters of the Pleiades: Which one don’t we see? There’s a hole in the sky where that star should be. Maybe it’s Tiger, playing hide-and-seek. Testing my bravery. Sometimes what we don’t see is what we see best. That doesn’t make any sense but may be true nonetheless—even if it’s utterly unscientific. The moon’s path is an imperfect circle, and so’s mine.
