WILL WELDON (early thirties, unwell mentally, needs a haircut and a shave) stands in his kitchen, considering the food in his cupboards.

WILL: Hmm, do I want to take twenty minutes making a proper dinner that will leave me feeling nourished and full and will be delicious, or do I want to eat this old bag of stale chips that will leave me feeling sick but will require neither prep nor clean-up.

The lights go down. When they come back up, Will is at his desk. The only sound that can be heard is the crunch of stale chips.

The lights slowly fade out.