She walked in with an air of mystery, the kind that made you forget your own name. Letters fell from her pocket like autumn leaves, each one a chapter in a comedy of errors. "Dear Alexander," they began, "it is with great distress that I must inform you..."
But alas, Alexander was not paying attention. He was too busy trying to impress a pigeon with his dance moves. The bird, unimpressed and slightly offended, promptly crapped on his shoulder. It was then he realized the folly of trying to woo a lady with avian ballet.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asked, the silence awkwardly filled with a distant saxophone solo.
"I don't believe in pigeons," Alexander replied earnestly, not understanding the question. "They never return my calls."
As she laughed, a romantic yet disastrous montage began to unfold. The two souls, entangled in slapstick moments: stumbling upon a masquerade ball, only to be the sole ones not wearing masks; uncovering a hidden talent for interpretative dance about lost keys; and discovering that the only way to get over a breakup was indeed to get under a table (which they did, searching for spare change).
Continue the Chaos Return to Act 1