The light comes on to reveal a staid, wooden table. One of the legs, seemingly shorter, lulls the staid, wooden table into an inconvenient motion. Until suddenly it jerks her into conversation. She is sitting opposite him. And in their loose, daily attire they start talking about super-heroes.

She: Really?

He: Yes, I am serious. I posses actual superpowers.

She: Uh huh. And what might these superpowers be?

He: I cannot tell you. When I start telling people, they start...(emphatic pause, deliberate stare)...dying.

She: Err....

He: Yes, I kill people with my talk. That is indeed my superpower.

She: What do you mean? (darts a look here, darts another there.)

He: It can be quite gruesome if I so wish. It takes the beginnings of forming my lips into ovals, moistening my lips, and expending the slightest whoooooosh of a word. I can feel the world around me spinning, Yes, I can feel it. There is a sudden energy that suddenly grips me. I feel like my brain is aware of a brand new consciousness. A world with my victims, and a world without. I have the power, the simple power of only talking about this power. And then the schism penetrating my consciouness, vanishes into thin air, taking with it the victims as I so desire. It is devastating my power, in execution and in style. Such ultimate power, all contained in a little, itchy ball dying to escape my throat...

She: (yawns)

He: (looks away, defeated) Well, looks like my superpower is to kill people with my talk.