Then appears in low dramatic light: A TV screen of liquid green. The sprawling appendages of a tree in a heavy pot. A couch. A coffee table. A chair. An end table with a stack of books and a lamp spewing soft, minty light. Windows with white curtains. And in this room there the white door appears once more.
“We’re in a box,” Andella says.
“A diorama,” Billy Hays adds.
“What do we do?”
“Sit on the couch and make out.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
Then there comes a small knock at the white door as if from a small hand.
Billy goes toward the door and pulls it open. There is nothing but a long hallway illuminated by the same minty green light as in the box.
Billy slowly closes the door.
“What is it?” Andella asks.
“A hallway that seemingly never ends,” he answers.
Then there comes a small knock upon the glass of one of the windows right where the curtains are parted.
Andella and Billy see a small figure with a white face and large eyes and strange clothes standing there and peering in.
“What is that?” Andella wants to know.
“Part of whatever is having us chase our tails through time and space,” Billy says.
And then, like the popping of a balloon, the small figure vanishes from the window and appears sitting on the couch. There’s a strange hum in the room and the feel of electricity in the air. The figure tilts its head as it studies the two humans standing before it.
“Are we in love?” Andella asks the figure. She turns to Billy and whispers, “It’s talking inside my head.”
“Yes, we are,” Billy tells the figure. “Who are you and where are we?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” the figure says to them inside their minds.
Andella turns to Billy. “We are?”
“Love is the only thing that matters,” the being says, this time aloud and in a strange voice. “Your world is failing. It’s falling apart because everyone is full of disdain and hate… This distaste of others because of the color of their skin, or who they love, or what language they speak, or what country they come from, or what political view they assume, or what religion they practice, or this or that and it goes on and on… Stupid. Your world is choked with stupidity, and war, and violence, and so many poor choices and so many priorities askew… You’re all destined to die in a crippled world…”
Billy takes Andella into his arms, and he looks into her eyes and says, “I love you.” He kisses her.
She doesn’t know what to do. Her lips move but no words come out.
Billy repeats, “I love you.”
“How?” she finally manages to softly say.
They walk side-by-side down the seemingly endless hallway beyond the white door. The minty green light guides their way. The walls are glossy black. Billy Halls tries to take her hand, but she yanks it away like a phonograph needle.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“This whole love thing you keep professing,” Andella says. “I don’t understand. We barely know each other.”
“We know each other enough. It’s not like we’re strangers to each other. I know you better than billions of people.”
Andella tries to change the subject. “Will this hallway ever end?”
“Everything ends,” Billy says with a hint of sadness. “Except God. He never ends. Did you know God told me, to live a life of luxury.”
“Then why aren’t you? You live in a circus tent caravan.”
“I don’t… I mean, I struggle just like everyone.”
“Then why doesn’t God help you?”
“I thought you were a believer,” Billy says to her.
“I tried to be, but it never works. Nothing happens. Nothing changes,” Andella says. “I might as well pray to a brick wall.”
“I sense your faith is slipping.”
“Faith in what? A white bearded hot air balloon floating around in the clouds with a basket full of unfulfilled wishes?”
“Then why did you come to the revival?”
“Truth is…” Andella stops walking and turns to look at him. “I was going to assassinate you.”
cereal after sex 
Your thoughts?