#11 Empty Theatre

The stage was deserted. Or rather, it appeared to be deserted, without the bustle of big days, with only the muffled sound of dragging feet in the distance, causing an undefined and dismal echo in the room.

Perhaps it was that, the lack of people, of applause and booing, of nerves before the scene, of the whispering of the orchestra, of embarrassed coughs, of the announcement before the start of each show, of great exhibited glories, of the failures that history has already forgotten, of aspirants to stardom, of the perfumed passage of eternal divas and heaven knows what else.

And there she was, staring like those who see everything, with a disturbing carousel rocking her imaginings of so many days. Maybe it was….

She stood up slowly, knowing full well that the room was deserted. The small groan of a slender and obedient Alsatian indicated the time. With her stick sweeping a path ahead of her, walking supporting by the continuous line of the edges of the aisle seats, she left, leaving that place where she had so often been happy, but where she always returned in moments in which she wanted to disturb the punishing silence.