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I am going to write a play. Right now, I’m thinking single act—leave them wanting more. The curtains will open to reveal one man, center-stage, wrestling with a 2-pound ball of gnarled yarn. After uncountable hours, he will loosen the final knot and drop the thread. Some in the audience might sigh with gratitude before realizing the performance is not over. Without altering his unreadable expression, the man will reach down, pick up one end of the string, and begin re-tangling. It’s not an allusion to Sisyphus so much as a eulogy for all our lost charging cables. I’m thinking that some of the loftier ideas will be missed by my audience. I am also thinking that at some point, maybe in the third hour of untangling, two lovers will steal away through the emergency exit. Outside, their voices will flicker through night’s thick curtains. The moon will be quiet as a linchpin. In the gathering dark, they will dance, believing they have no audience.