[The Dreamhouse.]

[A toy wrestling ring sits on the floor. Around it are several tiny plastic chairs arranged in a circle.]

[Dolly Daydream is humming softly while adjusting the chairs.]

“You know what my favorite playground game was when I was little?”

[She spins one of the chairs with her fingertip.]

“Musical chairs.”

[A soft giggle.]

“It looks like such a happy game, doesn’t it?

Everyone walking in a circle.

Everyone smiling.

Everyone pretending they’re just having fun.”

[She lightly taps one chair.]

“But that’s not what the game really is.”

[A pause.]

“It’s a test.

Because eventually the music stops.”

[Dolly gently removes one chair from the circle.]

“And someone doesn’t have a seat.”

[She tilts her head.]

“That moment tells you everything about people.

Some panic.

Some shove.

Some smile and pretend they meant to lose.”

[A small shrug.]

“And some people…

…never even saw the chair disappearing.”

[A beat.]

“Last week, the music stopped.”

[She touches the scratch across her mask.]

“And Dolly Daydream didn’t have a chair.”

[A small shrug.]

“That’s okay.

Because musical chairs is a funny game.”

[Dolly nudges the chairs around the toy ring.]

“You know what my favorite part always was?”

[She gently pulls one chair closer to herself.]

“Finding a good seat early.

Some kids run in circles.

Some kids dance.

Some kids make a big show out of it.”

[She pats the chair lightly.]

“But the smart ones?

They already know where they’re sitting.”

[Dolly taps one of the chairs.]

“And that brings me to you, Jammy.”

[A small giggle.]

“I’ve been watching you.

You move through the ring like the music never stops.

You dance.

You bounce.

You spin like the whole place is your stage.”

[Dolly gently nudges a chair.]

“And honestly?

I kind of admire that.

You understand rhythm.

You understand energy.

You understand how to keep the crowd moving with you.”

[A beat.]

“But Jammy…”

[She stops the chair from spinning.]

“You misunderstand the game.”

[Dolly removes another chair.]

“it’s about that moment when everything stops.”

[A quiet pause.]

“And suddenly the dancing doesn’t matter.

The rhythm doesn’t matter.

The show doesn’t matter.”

[Dolly sets the chair beside her.]

“All that matters is who still has a seat.”

[She leans in.]

“And Jammy…

You’ve been dancing so hard you haven’t noticed something.”

[She gestures toward the shrinking circle.]

“The chairs keep disappearing.

One by one.”

[A pause.]

“Last week the music stopped for Dolly.”

[Dolly stands slowly.]

“This week…”

[She nudges another chair out of the circle.]

“…it stops for you.”

[Dolly lifts the final chair and sets it gently inside the toy ring.]

“So bring your rhythm.

Bring your dancing.

Bring your psychedelic groove machine.”

[A soft smile.]

“Bring the whole concert if you want, Jammy.”

[Dolly lightly dusts off the chair.]

“But musical chairs was never really about the music.

It’s about the silence.”

[She tilts her head.]

“Last week that silence found me.”

[A playful shrug.]

“But games keep going.”

[Dolly gently turns the chair toward herself.]

“So when the music stops this time, Jammy…”

[She pats the seat.]

“…the chair’s taken.”