I don't really remember, but I'm positive that whenever I cried

Opening Scene
The sky outside is painted in shades of crimson and purple, the last traces of the setting sun fading behind the horizon. Inside a cozy living room, the air is warm, filled with the faint scent of baked goods. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of a ceiling fan and the occasional creak of an old wooden floorboard. Jack and Jeeny sit across from each other, the distance between them more than just physical. Jack’s hands are wrapped around a half-empty cup of tea, and Jeeny, her legs tucked underneath her, is staring at the family photos hanging on the wall.

The evening feels calm, yet there’s a quiet tension in the air, an unspoken history between them both. Outside, the wind picks up, but inside, the world is still — except for the small sounds of their breathing.

Host: The silence between them is thick, like a soft blanket covering the room. There’s a certain peace in the way they sit together, but it’s fragile, like something could break the moment. The faint light from the window paints their faces in shifting shadows, revealing something unspoken.

Jeeny: (her voice quiet, almost reflective) “I’ve been thinking a lot about my childhood recently. You know, how small things could make everything feel better. Like when you’re upset and your mom gives you something sweet to make you feel better. It’s funny how something so simple can make you feel whole again.”

Jack: (glancing at her, then looking down at his cup) “Candy? You think that really helps? Just giving someone sugar and hoping everything magically gets better?”

Jeeny: (laughs softly, her eyes softening) “It’s not about the candy, Jack. It’s about the comfort. The act of someone reaching out when you’re feeling small, when the world seems like it’s falling apart. It’s about the gesture, the idea that someone cares enough to give you something — even if it’s just a piece of candy — to make you feel better in the moment.”

Host: The sound of the wind picks up again, pressing against the windows, but inside, there is only the gentle quiet of their conversation. The fading light in the room gives it a kind of nostalgic glow, as if they’re both revisiting old memories, both walking through the past without realizing it.

Jeeny: (with a soft smile) “Jean Nidetch once said, ‘I don’t really remember, but I’m positive that whenever I cried, my mother gave me something to eat. I’m sure that whenever I had a fight with the little girl next door, or it was raining and I couldn’t go out, or I wasn’t invited to a birthday party, my mother gave me a piece of candy to make me feel better.’ Isn’t that funny? How something so simple could make such a difference?”

Jack: (pauses, his tone skeptical) “It sounds like she was just using food to shut down emotions, Jeeny. A quick fix. I don’t know if that really helps in the long run. Comfort isn’t supposed to be about instant gratification, is it?”

Jeeny: (looking at him with a slight tilt of her head, her voice steady) “Maybe, but I think it’s more than that. It’s about nurturing. It’s not about fixing the problem right away, but just acknowledging that someone is there for you, in whatever form that takes. Sometimes, it’s the small gestures that hold the most weight. My mom used to give me candy when I was upset, but it wasn’t just about the sugar. It was about her letting me know that whatever I was going through, it was okay to feel it, and she was there to comfort me.”

Host: The light in the room flickers for a moment, casting fleeting shadows on their faces. The weight of Jeeny’s words lingers in the air, but Jack seems almost unmoved, his lips pressed together in thought. His fingers gently tap the side of his cup, a sign of internal restlessness.

Jack: (quietly, almost to himself) “Maybe. But I still think we rely too much on things to make us feel better, whether it’s food or anything else. It’s like we’re always trying to patch up the cracks in our lives with something temporary. At some point, that candy isn’t going to make the pain go away.”

Jeeny: (her voice becoming softer, but still firm) “I don’t think it’s about the candy at all, Jack. It’s about the connection. My mother didn’t just give me food because she thought it would solve everything. She gave it to me because she knew I was hurting, and in that moment, she needed to offer me something to show that I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a fix, it was a gesture of love, of nurturing.”

Host: The room is still now, save for the soft sound of Jeeny’s words hanging in the air. Jack doesn’t respond right away, his brow furrowing as though he’s trying to piece together something that’s just out of reach. The quiet tension between them is now layered with a deeper understanding, as if both are slowly coming to terms with the difference in how they view the world.

Jack: (after a long pause, his voice softer) “So you think we’re just supposed to give each other candy, metaphorically speaking, to make everything better?”

Jeeny: (shaking her head with a quiet laugh) “No, Jack. It’s not about the candy. It’s about showing that we care, in whatever way we can. It’s about letting people know that even when they feel small or broken, they’re not alone in that. It’s a comfort that says, ‘I’m here for you, and I see your pain.’”

Host: The quiet seems to settle between them, not awkward but comforting in its stillness. Jack takes a slow breath, his hands relaxing around his cup. The light outside is almost gone now, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp above. There’s a slight change in the atmosphere — a small but noticeable shift.

Jack: (his voice quieter, more reflective) “Maybe there’s something to that. Maybe it’s not the candy that matters, but the fact that someone’s offering it when it feels like the world is just too much.”

Jeeny: (smiling, her voice warm) “Exactly. It’s not about solving the problem; it’s about showing that you’re not alone, even in your smallest moments. Comfort, no matter how simple it seems, can be a powerful way to remind someone that they’re worthy of care.”

Host: The room feels lighter now, the soft hum of the fan a gentle background to the stillness that surrounds them. Jack’s face softens, the tension in his body easing just a little. The faint light from the window casts the room in a peaceful, quiet glow, and for a moment, there’s no sense of distance between them. The conversation has brought them closer, even if only for a moment, to a shared understanding.

Jack: (with a slight, almost imperceptible smile) “Maybe I could use some candy after all.”

Jeeny: (laughing softly, her eyes warm) “I think we all could.”

Host: The moment passes, but the warmth between them lingers, like the comforting embrace of something long remembered. Outside, the night has fully taken over, but inside, the room remains full of the gentle hum of two people, quietly realizing the power of small gestures.