No Reason But Us

Chapter 23 : Paper Flowers

It was a Friday, Oddey sat on the stage and was making roses out of recycled paper in the auditorium alone. Then Gage came in for a private rehearsal session with her. "That looks great," he complimented her handmade flower.

"You think so? I thought I forgot how to do this," she said. "I have to teach the crew because we need to make a bunch of these for the set so right now I have to start making some of these flowers but don't worry, I'm still going to practice with you."

"I can help you out." He sat down with her on stage and then took a paper. "So how do you make this?"

"Gage, don't. Your only job is to rehearse."

"Then I'll multi-task."

"But..."

"It's part of being an architect."

"Okay, if you say so," Oddey sighed. "Alright, just take a wire, twist the paper around, and use glue so that it won't fall off."

"Like this?" Gage showed her how he did it.

"Perfect."

"This is easy, I can do this and go through my lines at the same time," he told her as he took out his script and gave it to her.

Oddey read it, "Okay, enter Romeo, and in here, he is in a melancholy state because he misses Rosaline," she explained.

"Okay," he chuckled and had done three flowers already, then read his line.

"Just imagine Rosaline is this girl you had a puppy love with when you were a thirteen-year-old boy going through puberty and talking about her with your best friend but make it more..."

"Melancholy? got it."

"Alright, I'll play Benvolio, so I'll start." Oddey took a photo of the script and began reading it. "Good morrow, cousin."

"Is the day so young?" Gage recited and pretended to sound sorrowful.

"But new struck nine."

"Ay me, sad hours seem song. Was that my father that went hence so fast?"

"It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?"

"Not having that which, having, makes them short." Gage looked at her while saying his parts to see what she thought of his acting, and she just nodded in satisfaction.

"Alas that love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyrannous and rough in proof."

"Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first created! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feels I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh?"

"No, coz, I rather weep."

"Good heart, at what?"

"At thy good heart's oppression."

Gage paused, being Romeo, "Gosh, it's a good thing I'm great at memorizing, or else I'd be dead before I play dead on stage," he sighed.

"Lucky you," Oddey chuckled.

"Sorry, let's continue. Where were we?"

"At thy good heart's oppression."

"Oh! here it is. Why such is love’s transgression," Gage continued. "Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed with more of thine. This love that thou hast shown doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs, being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes, being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz."