YOUNG JACK:
((Still accompanied by YOUNG JACK'S JEANS, looks up from the mirror at the sound of a car approaching. He wipes his face with his sleeve and puts his small shaving kit %% if it can be called that %% back in the truck. Mr. Aguirre gets out of the car and he approaches him hopefully.))
%% Uh, Mr. Aguirre? Mr. Aguirre? Remember me? %%
((Apparently either not remembering him or just completely inconsiderate, Mr. Aguirre ascends the steps to his trailer and quickly enters, slamming the door behind him.))
((The ominous warning on the door stands out like a blazing torch: "Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again."))
** Hope springs anew,
though not forever.
Drops of fresh dew,
which dry up in fever.
In fervor and haste,
opportunity goes by.
Precious seconds we waste...
But do we know why?
Some silences are benign,
but other soundlessnesses hostile.
To frustrate or to strengthen,
the quiet heart will rustle.
**