The book-lined office of a big-time Manhattan rabbi. Squeezed in to the area
around his desk are Ethel, Siggy, Saks, Mr. Hoffman, Mr. Anapol, and Jerry
Glovsky. Ethel is standing with her arms folded, face set.

In the center stand Sammy, Rosa, and the RABBI. Sammy is dressed in a dark
suit; Rosa, extremely pregnant, in a plain maternity dress, sea-green. The
rabbi, handsome, well-to-do, is talking.

    ... and in the sight of God. All right, Rosa.

He nods to her.

    Seven times?

Quickly, getting it over with, she begins to walk around Sammy in a tight

    Not like that, you aren't running for a bus, dear. Slowly. Look at
    him. You have to look at your husband. That's it.

She slows down, and looks at Sammy, looks away, He overts his eyes, too.
They just can't look at each other.

Then they do. Resolute. Terrified. Two people joining hands to leap from
a high ledge onto the tiniest of cushions.

Now, their eyes locked, she goes around and around and around and around
as the rabbi says:

        RABBI (cont'd)
    This in how you tell this man that he is the center of your existence. That
    he is the one you have chosen to set above all others. The Holy One,
    baruch hashem, spends His time arranging marriages. He has chosen you for
    each other, He has circled you with His Pen. And that is the path you are
    now walking.

Sammy blinks. His eyes roll back and his eyelids flutter and he sinks to
the floor. There is a CRASH. Ethel cries out.

        RABBI (cont'd)
    Give him room, please.

The rabbi kneels beside Sammy, who sits up, and reaches into the hip pocket
of his jacket. Brings out a cloth napkin enfolding the shattered pieces of
a wine glass.

    Oh, shit, I broke the glass.

    That's okay, Sam. You're supposed to break it. It's just a little early.

    Rabbi, they're already married aren't they? Officially?

The rabbi nods.

        ETHEL (cont'd)
    Maybe we ought to quit while we're ahead.

Sammy shakes out the napkin. A few last pieces of glass tumble to the carpet.