I know, to banish anger altogether from one's breast is a

Opening Scene – Narrated by Host

The afternoon sun slants through the cracked windows of the small, dimly lit room, casting long, sharp shadows on the rough, wooden floor. The air is thick with the smell of old books and the faint hum of city sounds seeping in from the streets outside. The dust particles drift lazily in the light, settling on everything they touch, as if time itself is in no hurry to move.

Jack leans against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His grey eyes are narrowed, scanning the darkness outside, as though the answers to his thoughts lie just beyond the window. Jeeny sits at the table, her small fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup, her brown eyes distant, as if searching for something she cannot quite reach.

The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words, the tension between them palpable.

Host: The room hums with the weight of unsaid things, a space where both hearts have been silently battling against a truth they both fear to confront.

Jeeny: “Anger, Jack... Do you think it’s really possible to banish it from your heart? Completely?”

Jack: (smirking, voice low and rough) “Banish anger? From the heart? You’re asking if it’s possible to be emotionally perfect? Without anger? That’s idealistic, Jeeny. Not even Gandhi could manage it. He talked about grace—God’s grace, to be precise. You think that’s a real solution?”

Jeeny: (looking up, eyes soft but intense) “But don’t you believe that peace—real peace—can only come from something deeper, something beyond us? Maybe it’s not about effort at all. Maybe it’s about faith.”

Host: The silence between them is like a charged current, pulsing in the air, each waiting for the other to make the next move. The light in the room flickers, as if it too feels the tension in the space.

Jack: (snorts, shaking his head) “Faith? That’s a cop-out, Jeeny. Pure effort, logic, discipline—that’s what gets results. You can’t just hope things will change because someone upstairs decides it’s your turn to be happy. You need to control your own mind, your own actions. The world doesn’t stop to give you a chance to be better. You have to fight for it. Look at the wars, the crimes, the injustice—you think people can just sit around waiting for grace to fix it?”

Jeeny: (her voice growing softer, but steady) “Maybe you’re right, Jack. Maybe there’s no quick fix for the world’s problems. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on compassion, on the idea that love and understanding can change things. People aren’t just machines running on logic—they have hearts, Jack. Hearts that need healing.”

Host: The air is thickening now, like a storm that’s been building. Jack’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling into fists, while Jeeny holds herself, poised but unwavering. The room feels suddenly smaller, the tension between them like a storm that’s ready to break.

Jack: (leaning forward, voice sharper now) “And where does hope get you when life knocks you down, Jeeny? You think hope can bring back a lost loved one? Or heal a wounded soul? We’re not living in a fairytale. You can’t wish away suffering. The world is full of people who’ve been broken, and grace doesn’t come to them. It doesn’t work like that.”

Jeeny: (her eyes flashing, voice firm) “But it’s not about wishing it away, Jack. It’s about acting, about showing up, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. People are capable of so much more than you think. I’ve seen it. You can hate, you can fight, but if there’s no understanding, no grace, what’s the point?”

Host: There’s a long pause, the weight of Jeeny’s words hanging in the air, heavy and unyielding. Jack is silent now, his eyes searching her face, as if he’s trying to read a truth he’s afraid to acknowledge. The light in the room shifts, and the rain outside starts to fall, soft at first, then louder, like the sound of tears falling from the sky.

Jack: (softly, almost to himself) “What if the world’s just too broken for any of that to matter? What if, in the end, we’re all just alone in our suffering, hoping for a miracle that will never come?”

Jeeny: (standing up, her voice trembling but determined) “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s a hard world. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying. That doesn’t mean we give in to despair. Grace is what gives us the strength to go on, even when we feel like we can’t. Maybe Gandhi knew that. Maybe that’s why he kept fighting, kept believing, even when everything seemed against him.”

Host: The room seems to fall into an eerie quiet. Jack and Jeeny stand facing each other, the rain outside their only witness. The storm outside mirrors the one in their hearts, but something in the air is shifting. The tension is slowly giving way to something softer, something more fragile.

Jack: (his voice soft, almost a whisper) “Maybe… maybe I’ve been too hard on people. Too cynical. But it’s not easy to believe in grace when you’ve seen so much pain. I want to, Jeeny. I just... I don’t know how.”

Jeeny: (her voice softening, a small smile on her lips) “You’re not alone, Jack. You never were. Grace is not about perfection. It’s about finding the strength to keep going, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. And maybe that’s enough.”

Host: The rain outside slows, the sound growing softer. Jack and Jeeny stand there in the quiet, their eyes meeting, each one feeling a shift in the space between them. The light from the window glows faintly, casting a soft glow around them.

Climax and Reconciliation

Jack: (looking out the window, his voice quiet but certain) “Maybe… Maybe you’re right. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being real. And sometimes, that’s enough.”

Jeeny: (smiling, her voice tender) “Yes. Sometimes, that’s all we can do.”

Host: The rain stops completely, and in the stillness, the sun breaks through the clouds, casting a warm light over the room. For a moment, the world feels calm, as though everything has finally found its place.

The two stand there, not as opponents, but as two souls, quietly understanding that grace—though elusive—is something that lives in the spaces between their hearts.