Each actor wears a ring. Identical, both glisten with moonlight each and every wedding night. A current never escapes the circular bounds of the signet; an ankh with a void in the middle of the circle, circumscribed with a force trapped in a pattern. Like a celestial satellite in space, it circles the void as if a gravitational field molds the orbit.

Adjacent to the circle is a choice. Left or right or straight ahead? A strange sort of gravity never chances leaving a choice to be considered!

The scene opens – he walks to the bridal bed and takes a ring from the pillow. It’s his ring. He chooses it every time, though its no different from its twin. She follows his lead and selects hers. He slips his onto a middle finger, she does the same. The male wears it on his right hand, the female on her left. A wine bottle empties into bodies naked. Drunkenness starts a game of entice-the-enticer, trap-the-trapper in his trap.

She wilts onto a silken pallet, feigning faint, and he asks “Oh! my darling, are you alright?” She utters not a word, only wraps two legs around the man whose hands crucify her genuine attempt to seemingly surrender. His hips cannot back out now! She loosens her grasp only just enough, allowing him to vibrate. A song plays, matching the frequency of the players. Vibrations match her resonance. His resonance was modulated by a look of sincerity. Her eyes shine rays of black seduction.

Blatantly, this pattern ignores the orthodox cycle of day-to-night and night-to-day. Each production of this play starts at night, and ends later that night. And after this particular night’s climax, a seamless transition to the same night only one night later seems inevitable. Like a prison of pleasure needing no guard or barbwire fence, He and she surrender to a construct created by love and drunkenness – they do not want to escape their self-fulfilling prophesy of pain.

They knew one day a heart would break, so now they live at night. Obsessed with blood and sacrifice, reliving the first act of lust must be the only way to escape a possible result of love.

Each production of this play starts with a choice; to slip the ring onto the finger or not? Compliance with the rule continues on an ageless existence. Drunk still from the previous performance, an ageless wine prohibits any other choice.

The rings always start on the pillow, on silken sheets, on the bridal bed. And once a choice is made by man or woman, their lover must choose the same or dare face an eternity of regret.