«The curtain rises. The room. It seems like there’d been a crime here — a woman’s body in a long shirt is stretched by the bed. It seems to be lifeless.

Silence ... The woman rises, changes her pose and falls again into stillness. Then, as if she has finally decided to do something, she gets up, takes her coat off the bed, hesitates a little before the telephone, and goes to the door.

As soon as she touched the doorknob, the phone rings. She rushes to it. The coat disturbs her, blow to her feet, she throws it away by a sharp kick and picks up the phone.

From now on, she talks turning back to the audience, facing them, in profile, on her knees, behind the back of the chair, laying her head, then leaning back, walking around the room, pulling the telephone cord to the limit, until finally Don’t fall fl at on the bed. Her head hangs lifelessly, and the tube, falling out of her hands like a stone, falls to the floor with a bang».

Jean Cocteau