Question

Write a very short play for casting

Answer 1

Title: Take One

Cast (for casting)
- KATE — Casting director. 35–50. Calm, precise, quietly curious.
- AIDEN — Actor auditioning. 25–35. Nervous but earnest; carries a gentle, repressed intensity.
- RILEY — Reader/assistant. 18–28. Neutral, quick; reads lines when asked.

Setting
A bare audition room: a table with a clipboard, two chairs, a small lamp. A single door SR.

Approximate running time: 4–6 minutes.

(Blackout. Lights up. KATE sits at the table, clipboard before her. RILEY stands by the door. AIDEN knocks and enters.)

KATE
(relieved, professional)
Aiden. Thank you for coming. Sit.

(AIDEN sits. He places a folded headshot on the table; hands slightly tremble.)

KATE
We have ten minutes. We'll do a cold read and then a short improv. Have you looked at the scene?

AIDEN
(shakes his head)
No. I— I prefer to meet it fresh.

KATE
Fair. You're reading opposite Riley. He's going to be Sam, who... (glances at notes) gets a phone call from someone he loves and decides not to go home. You need to convince him. Realism, no theatrics. Ready?

RILEY
(nods)
Whenever.

KATE
Begin when you're ready. Take one.

(AIDEN breathes. RILEY lifts an imaginary phone to his ear.)

RILEY
(soft, urgent)
Hey. Hey— where are you?

AIDEN
(steadying, soft)
I'm in the car. I——look, I can't come home tonight.

RILEY
(confused)
What? You promised. We were supposed to—

AIDEN
I know. I know. I know what I promised. But I'm not coming. I'm sorry.

RILEY
(voice tight)
Why not? Is it— is it about him? About the money?

(AIDEN pauses. The audition moment becomes personal.)

AIDEN
(very small, honest)
No. It's not about him. It's not even about the money. It's... I'm tired of pretending the plan we made fits me. Every time I get in the car I feel like I'm driving toward someone else's life. I thought if I kept driving long enough, I'd catch up with who I'm supposed to be. But I don't know which exit to take. So I'm staying. I'm choosing the unknown over the same wrong thing.

(RILEY's eyes widen; he steps back, as if struck.)

RILEY
You can't just choose away from us. You don't get to rewrite the promises.

AIDEN
You can call it a rewrite. Call it cowardice. Call it brave. I'm telling you now because I thought you deserved to hear it before I became someone else in silence.

(KATE watches. Her expression shifts—softens, intrigued.)

KATE
(quietly, to the room)
Hold. Aiden, can you try that again but give it a beat—let him ask one more question. Make the plea quieter, more like breaking glass.

(AIDEN nods, resets.)

RILEY
(softer; pleading)
Please. Don't leave me with a question.

AIDEN
(voice small, breaking)
I'm not leaving you with a question. I'm leaving you with the truth. Because I couldn't stand another lie that fit both of us like a bandage. I'm sorry.

(Beat. RILEY stares as if the world is rearranging. Silence falls. KATE finally writes something on the clipboard.)

KATE
(taking a breath)
Thank you. We'll— we'll be in touch.

AIDEN
(standing; very quietly)
Do you ever... tell people the truth without them asking?

KATE
(looks up; a half-smile)
Sometimes. It gets easier for some of us to hear it than to give it. You're done.

(AIDEN nods, exits. Lights dim on KATE watching the closed door. Small smile, almost a question.)

KATE
(to herself, almost to the empty room)
Take two.

(Blackout.)

End.