Music is the best way that I can communicate with other people.

Host: The afternoon light drips like honey through the cracks in the wooden blinds, casting long shadows across the quiet room. The faint hum of a nearby fan tries to cut through the thick heat, but it only adds to the stillness. Jack sits by the window, his eyes fixed on something far beyond the glass, his fingers tapping the edge of his coffee cup, the quiet rhythm of his thoughts. Jeeny sits opposite him, her hand curled around her cup, her gaze soft but penetrating, as if she’s waiting for him to say something.

Jeeny: “You know, I was listening to a song last night. It’s by Juice WRLD — a bit of a messy soul, but he says something that really stuck with me. ‘Music is the best way that I can communicate with other people.’"

Jack: (glances up, a half-smile forming) “Music, huh? That’s what you’re hanging your hat on? You really think it’s the best way to communicate? It’s abstract, Jeeny. Vague. What does it even mean, ‘communicate’? It doesn’t solve anything.”

Jeeny: (leans forward, softly) “Maybe you don’t see it, Jack, but it’s real. Music can express what words can’t. It goes deeper than language, deeper than the surface level. It can touch parts of us that we can’t even articulate. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough. What do you think people feel when they listen to a song that speaks to them? That’s communication.”

Jack: (smirks, shaking his head) “Feelings, huh? I’m sorry, but feelings don’t pay the rent, Jeeny. Music is just emotion with a nice beat. It doesn’t fix anything, it doesn’t change anything. Logic does. Words, real words, can move people. We’re too caught up in this emotional fog to see that. Look at history — everything that’s changed the world, the real progress, was driven by action, not some song.”

Jeeny: (her voice rising, a flicker of fire in her eyes) “You’re telling me that action is the only thing that matters? So, what, everything we feel, everything that makes us human, is just irrelevant? Do you think MLK’s speech was just about words? His words, his rhetoric, moved mountains, Jack. And people still listen to him because there’s power in what he said. Music works the same way. It’s not action by itself, it’s what drives that action. Sometimes it’s the quiet that speaks the loudest.”

Jack: (his voice hardens, the smirk gone) “But it’s not enough, Jeeny. People love the idea of emotions taking the lead. It’s a nice fantasy, but life isn’t that simple. You don’t get anywhere by sitting around waiting for the next song to inspire you. You do something. That’s how things get done. Music doesn’t solve poverty, it doesn’t stop wars. You need real solutions.”

Jeeny: (softly, almost sadly) “It’s easy to say that, from the outside. But emotion, creativity, expression — these are the roots of everything we do. They fuel us. How do you think people get the courage to change things? They hear something that resonates within them, that ignites a fire. Without that, without passion, people wouldn’t even know where to start. How else do you explain movements like the civil rights movement, or the way people rally together after a tragedy? It’s not just about logic, it’s about the heart.”

Jack: (pauses, his voice quieter, more introspective) “You think passion is all it takes? You think people will just rise up because of some song? What about those who never heard that song, Jeeny? What about those who can’t hear it? They’re still trapped in their realities, fighting for survival, not some emotion that’s meant to save them.”

Jeeny: (her voice trembles with the weight of her beliefs) “And what if that song, that message, was the one thing that gave them the strength to keep fighting? That’s what I’m talking about. Music, art, love — these are the forces that transform us. It’s not always immediate, Jack. But it builds something inside us that no logic can. If we lost that, we’d have nothing.”

Host: The air between them grows tense, the unspoken tension building in the space like a storm. Jack shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming on the wooden table, while Jeeny’s gaze never wavers, unwavering in her belief. The light from the window fades, casting long shadows across their faces.

Jack: (after a long pause, his voice softer, more vulnerable) “I don’t know, Jeeny. I see where you’re coming from. But the world is a harsh place, you know? People don’t always have the luxury of waiting for the right moment, the right song to come along. Sometimes, you just have to survive.”

Jeeny: (her voice gentle now, a softness in her eyes) “I know, Jack. But maybe surviving isn’t enough. Maybe we need to feel something to truly live. Music isn’t a luxury, it’s a way to stay alive in the world. When the world feels like it’s breaking you down, sometimes it’s the song that will lift you back up.”

Jack: (takes a deep breath, his voice quiet) “Maybe. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. But I still think we need more than just feelings. Action has to lead the way.”

Jeeny: (smiling softly) “Maybe, Jack. But without emotion, even action would be hollow. Maybe we need both. Music to ignite us, and action to carry us through.”

Host: The room falls silent, the only sound the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. Jack and Jeeny sit in the dim light, their gazes meeting across the table. In the stillness, they both realize something — both perspectives have their truth, and in that truth, there is a shared understanding. As the night outside grows darker, a soft smile plays on Jeeny’s lips, and Jack, for the first time, seems to understand.

The light outside dims, but the warmth inside the room remains.

End Scene.