(HUSBAND and WIFE are rocking on a suspended bench above their ramshackle wooden porch, looking out at the golden fields ahead. Both have a stoic expression, captivated by the land before them.)
HUSBAND: Honey, I have destroyed our children.
(Neither acknowledge each other, and simply continue gazing.)
WIFE: We have no children, honey.
(HUSBAND hangs his head and curses under his breathe, but lifts it to the fields shortly after.)
HUSBAND: Why don't we just do that now?
(WIFE shakes her head solemnly.)
WIFE: We're too old now.
(HUSBAND clenches his fist.)
HUSBAND: Shoot...Why didn't we do it before, then?
WIFE: We didn't have enough money. (HUSBAND looks at her, confused.)
HUSBAND: What do you mean, dear?
WIFE: We spent it all building this porch.
(HUSBAND looks down at the porch and sighs.)
HUSBAND: Ridiculous! The livestock should have made us plenty of money!
(WIFE squints her eyes at the sun setting, giving the tips of the wheat a radiant glow.)
WIFE: The wolves ate our sheep, honey.
HUSBAND: Why didn't we protect them?!?
(A tear drops down WIFE's face, illuminated by the remaining sunlight.)
WIFE: Because we sit on the porch all day.
(HUSBAND slumps back in the bench.)
HUSBAND: Well, what kind of farmers does that make us?
WIFE: We're not farmers, honey, we're sheep.
(They continue sitting on the porch.)
