Just like people at a party, the characters in shows staged at Studio Theatre always seem to be milling around the kitchen. The three-strong cast of The Children doesn’t break from this trend—someone is pouring a drink or preparing a snack from the set’s kitchen during most of the show’s 90-minute runtime. But it becomes clear quite quickly that this particular kitchen in a small cottage on England’s coast has certain limitations, and these restrictions weigh heavily on the proceedings.

That’s because married couple Hazel (Jeanne Paulsen) and Robin (Richard Howard) and their unexpected visitor, former colleague Rose (Naomi Jacobson), are living in the aftermath of “the disaster.” What, exactly, precipitated this current situation is unclear, but it has something to do with the power station where the three of them met one another about four decades ago.

It’s clear from the outset that Rose’s presence frazzles Hazel and delights Robin. The play unravels the history these three share in small morsels, rationed out like food or electricity in the world they inhabit. It’s gripping, and a testament to the actors that their characters feel so lived-in. We might just be meeting them, trying to translate their feelings towards one another, but they are similarly trying to suss out one another’s intentions.

The play, written by Lucy Kirkwood and directed by Studio’s artistic director, David Muse, revels in these small exchanges. (Muse previously directed a Kirkwood-penned play at Studio with 2015’s Chimerica.) The Children takes the position that the characters’ seemingly inconsequential choices and preferences portend larger issues: Plucking out a stray black hair on one’s chin is a way to signal the ongoing fight against aging, craving a meaty meal puts one’s base desires ahead of the needs of many, Hazel compares just about everything to eggs, the ultimate symbol of fertility and promise.

It’s notable that in a play called The Children, all of the characters are in their sixties. And yet, like at a local political meeting, they all seem to justify their decisions based on what they believe future generations need most. Is it a convenient way for them to project their wants onto those who come after them? Or, is our duty to our children, as Robin says, “to fuck off at some point”?

The Children doesn’t answer these questions for us. But as tender moments turn tart and lead to serious cringing, the play makes the case that we should be asking them of ourselves.

The Children’s extended run ends June 9 at Studio Theatre’s Metheny Theatre. Tickets $20-$87. Runtime approximately 90 minutes, with no intermission.