Helena: You think that you’re in love?
Jonathan: Yes.
Helena: With her?
Jonathan: dreamily. Yes.

Silence. Helena erupts in laughter.

Jonathan: Thanks Lena, your support means a lot.
Helena: I’m sorry Johnny, but you have to admit that it’s kind of funny.
Jonathan: I don’t see anything remotely funny about me being lovesick.
Helena: Then let me break it down for you. You, Jonathan Monroe are in love with Bethany Hank, miss prim, miss proper, miss I have a huge stick up my ass two ways to Tuesday. And you’re in love with that tightwad? What isn’t funny about that.
Jonathan: You’re a super pal, you know that right?
Helena: through spurts of laughter. Okay, okay. Let me ask you this then. How do you know you’re in love?
Jonathan: Well, it’s like this overwhelming sickening feeling of sunshine, I guess. It starts in the pit of my stomach and fills up every fiber of my being until I pretty much can’t stand the thought of not thinking about her for even a second. And sometimes it makes me want to throw up.
Helena: That sounds like indigestion.
Jonathan: Why do I tell you things?
Helena: Because I’m the only insight to the female mind you have. Oh, and I’m pretty much your only friend.
Jonathan:  Unfair.
Helena: But true. So what how do you feel about your overwhelming sunshine indigestion?
Jonathan: Pauses, pondering. Happy.
Helena: Shit.
Jonathan: What? Is that bad, should I not be feeling that way? Is there something wrong with me?
Helena: Chuckling. Slow your roll there Romeo. Don’t go having a panic attack on me.
Jonathan: Then tell me what the fuck is wrong with me Lena. Why do I feel like this all the time? Why she the only thing I want to think about? Why, when do I feel guilty when I even remotely start thinking about someone else because I should be thinking about her? Why do I here fucking romantic sweeping music in my head every time I see her? And why am I happy that all of these feeling inevitably make me feel like puking my guts every time I’m around her? Because I’m pretty sure all of these signs point to love.
Helena: Are you done?
Jonathan: Yes.
Helena: Can you breathe for me for a second?

He does.

Helena: Good.
Jonathan: So what’s my diagnosis?
Helena: Reluctantly. You’re in love.
Jonathan: Told you so.
Helena: Now that question is: What are you going to do about it?
Jonathan: What?
Helena: Oh Christ. You really are a lost cause.

End of Scene.