MRS. HO
I was going to ask you to allow Westward---
MOCHA TCHOKHA ROSE
If you could find him---
MRS. HO
I was going to force
you---
MOCHA TCHOKHA ROSE
’Glad you can’t---
MRS. HO
But . . .
MOCHA TCHOKHA ROSE
Why are you here?
MRS. HO
(Pause)
I don’t know.
(MRS.
HO packs up her grandchild and walks somberly out of Panera Bread.
MOCHA TCHOKHA ROSE pulls out a laptop
and begin to write.)
(Elsewhere,
WESTWARD HO watches, as through a crystal ball.)
END
OF “DISSOLUTION.”
