Merge, coexist

Submerge. Open scene

On a riverbank, isolated

Nobody but the trees

Their slurping roots, murking leaves

Tannins making soup of the current.

Hot soup, begging to be drunk

up by some passer-by.

The amber of it stains our throats.

End scene,

And read the contractor's quote:

Ten thousand dollars for a dock for your boats.