henry and ralph.

EXT. CONCORD. RALPH’S PORCH. — DAY

HENRY and RALPH stand at sunset looking out over the landscape.

RALPH
I think you might be gay.

HENRY
What?

RALPH
I think you might be gay.

HENRY
Do you have any documentation on that?

RALPH
Ever heard of Warren Zevon?

HENRY
Yeah. “Werewolves of London.”

RALPH
No. Not that Warren Zevon. There’s a different one. He writes for the Improper Bostonian.

HENRY
No. Never heard of him.

RALPH
Well he wrote a piece in 1995 exploring sexuality among New England writers of the mid-19th-century. Your name came up.

HENRY
Really. Who else?

RALPH
Nathaniel.

HENRY
That is some kind of bullshit. Nate couldn’t pass for gay if he fucked Congress. Anyone else?

RALPH
Emily —

HENRY
Well, DUH.

RALPH
Hey! She had that torrid affair with what’s-his-face —

HENRY
Yeah, through the mail. Doesn’t count.

RALPH
And you?

HENRY
I’m no lesbian.

RALPH
Funny. Seriously.

HENRY
“Trust thyself—every heart vibrates to that iron string.” Or some shit like that.

RALPH
Don’t quote me at me. But I see your point.

They are silent. An airplane flies overhead.

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