The door opens:
1:"What's going on in here?"
There's a boy sitting on the floor alone, full birthday party attire, ripping the pages out of books, a fresh stack beside him.
2:"Oh.. Well it's a party"
The boy looks around stretching his hands all about showing the grande party of one.
"But you're the only one here?"
The boy looks around, pure sadness sculpted in his face
"Oh... Well yeah."
"Where's everyone else?"
The boy looks down at his books and starts ripping pages again
"Oh......"
"Well where are they??"
The boy looked back up
"There were people here before, even when I first arrived, but they left, they all left. Some laughed, some cried. But they all left."
He went back to ripping pages.
"Oh. I'm sorry I gue.."
Snaps
"No your not."
Back to ripping pages.
A pile has started.
"... Are more people going to come?"
Still ripping pages.
"I'm sure they will, they always do. But they always leave."
The room is empty besides the boy, and his close belongings.
"Where's all your stuff?"
The boy looks around then back at his books.
"This is all I need, they took the rest when they left."
"Oh, I'm sor.. Well maybe the next people will be nicer."
Still ripping
"I doubt it."
The boy started ripping pages furiously from this huge book, he started crying, keeping the same demeanor and said
"I hated this book, I really hated this book.. Well really I loved it, I really did, but when it ended I hated it, and reread it until I hated all of it, I tore out all the pages I liked."
"Why?"
"Maybe I wanted to hate it, I'm not sure. I've read all these books in this room, that's all I've ever done ever. But I still don't understand any of it. These books, these pages, me. I don't understand anything "
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not"
Pages start to fill the entire floor.
"Why am I here?"
"I'm not sure, you came in without asking."
"Can I leave?"
"They always do."
"Well do you need anything?"
...the boy thinks...
"Yes... I need a lot."
"I'm sorry to hea.."
"No your not."
Anger
"Stop saying that! What do you need!?"
The boy stops ripping and stands up, crying, staring at the mess he's made. He has something in his hand.
"Will you please hold this"
He hands him a matchbox
"Sure"
The boy searches the pile and pulls out one page under all the rest.
"This was my favorite, I loved her, I should've left with her. I really should have. You wouldn't understand."
"I'm sorry I don't"
The boy mumbles the words under his breath. Then lays down in his pile he's made and hugs that one page tight against his lip as he cries.
"Burn it all, don't worry about me. Just light it and leave..."
"Okay..."
The match is lit, then the whole box and it's thrown to the pages which light with a golden crisp.
"Thanks, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
The fire swallows the pages, then the boy, and then his room.
"I don't understand but I'm sorry."
The door closes
"Thank you."