This could be the scene where I could finally tell him: a deserted stage. Footlights will dimly glow. We'll walk on stage left.
Two shadows moved out onto the stage. As they drew closer to the still-glowing footlights, their glow revealed a man and woman. The man could feel the heat coming off the cans, like radiators. He ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair. Wow, it must get hot up here?”
The woman replied, almost despondently. “Yeah, it does. But the makeup hides our sweat, mostly.”
I’ll wrap my arms around him; make him feel secure before I let him down.
The woman padded across, wrapped her arms around the man, and pressed her face into his back. “But there is nothing like being on the stage. It is almost like being on another world.” Her melancholia was almost contagious.
“So, what do you see when you’re up here?” He gestured at the empty seats.
“Not much, really. I think if I could see everyone, I would probably forget my lines. The truth is I almost forget they’re out there, watching. It’s only when someone coughs or laughs I remember where I am.”
He turned in her arms to face her. He looked for her eyes but she had them closed, tight, almost as if she was sleeping. “And where, exactly, are you?”
He’d say something tender but alluding to something else giving me the excuse to get angry with him.
She pushed away from him. She looked angry but she still wouldn’t look at him. She only darted red glances at him from under her fringe. “I don’t want to start this again with you. This is what I do. This is who I am. If you can’t understand then I know one thing for sure.” She paused. He waited but she couldn’t finish.
He wiped the hair from her face and gently cradled her chin in his hand. He raised her head up until she was looking fully at him. He could see so much sadness in her eyes. He started to ask her but found he couldn’t voice the words. Something was missing and he couldn’t think what to say.
She pulled her head away from his grip. She could see his sudden disquiet all over his face. He looked first confused, then almost dismayed.
I don’t know what I what him to say here. He could reciprocate the anger or perhaps he could try to placate her. But I’m not sure.
He stood gasping in front of her, trying to say something, anything. She seemed completely distracted by something else, barely even seeing him. His mouth worked its way open and shut, reminding her of a goldfish.
He was kind of like that, a goldfish in a bowl. Only the bowl is my page and his air, my words. Without them, he can’t breath. I’m bored with him. He doesn’t excite me anymore. I really thought I could make his character work, but he’s all wrong. I’m going to have to think about this more. However, he’ll definitely have dark, wavy hair.
He pulled at his collar and clutched his hands to his throat. He looked imploringly at her but she had turned away and was completely ignoring him. He tried to move but it was as if his feet were stuck to the floor. He slumped to his knees. The noise echoed around the stage. The woman turned and looked at him.
As she watched, he toppled face first onto the floor. His right arm reached out towards her. He extended his fingers imploringly to her until it finally he stopped moving. She watched him for a while, and then stepped forward towards him. She stopped in front of him but instead of looking at him, she looked out over the still glowing footlights. She smiled to herself as the curtain fell.