Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

In the banality of small talk in the aisle of a convenience store, Vince Gatton brings us a portrait of three people that will stay with you. The dialogue and the characters who share their slices of their life is so genuine and powerful simply because it is so seemingly ordinary. The drama that he brings us is powerful. Well done.

To quote the immortal Hawkeye Pierce (M*A*S*H), "to think I've always hated opera." But in the capable and loving hands of Larry Rinkel, it is a joy to read and ... yes, want more.

It takes someone who truly knows and loves the art form to poke fun at it with the affection that Rinkel has for opera, the grander the better. And for those of us of a certain age, Elmer and Bugs would fit right in.

You never know what can come from a smile, a momentary look that turns into a shared moment, and what can come after. Sometimes it's the real thing and sometimes it's just a moment. That's how Bruce Karp shapes this short play with a touch of wistful humor and "might-have-been" fantasy that may -- or may not -- lead to something. Very much worth thinking about, and I'd like to see this on the stage.

Sometimes all it takes is just a word, a gesture, a touch, to reassure each other. In this brief moment, Matthew Weaver's two characters offer that, even if they need it themselves.

I'm willing to bet that most gay men had their first realization of their sexual identity by seeing something like a Calvin Klein underwear ad: an abstract and unattainable object of visceral lust, and the awareness of it where even if it cannot be spoken or even acknowledged, it cannot be denied. Vince Gatton perfectly captures the moment when it happens, and does it in such a way that you can't help but feel exactly what this young man is going through.

In one minute, you know everything you need to know about Win and Tim, which is how it should be.

Larry Rinkel's poetic tribute to a lost love is touching, humorous, but most of all, deeply moving. As he does in his other plays, he brings out a level of humanity that in ten minutes reveals a life and the story of the friendship that lasts long after death. I know oh so well how the old man feels about Brian, and so will you.

There are songs that become ear-worms: annoying to the point that you can't get them out of your head. Then there are those that become part of our subconscious, that form a continuo in our life that seem to come along as we need them and complement and complete a moment. This short piece by Sean McCord weaves the lyrics of songs of the characters' lives into the conversation and makes their connection even more meaningful. It's graceful, charming, winsome, and hopeful.

A touching and deeply insightful moment in the life of two boys where a moment and an opportunity for for a connection passes, and the regret for what might have been lives on.

It could have led to nothing. But it also could have been life-changing. He'll never know. And that is the true loss.

John Busser's laugh-per-line quotient is right up there with this short play, not to mention the double-entendres that are slipped in artfully and imaginatively. Jacquie's rehearsal for the, um, show is hilarious. I'd like to watch, too.