Credits

Credits
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scenes have come and scenes have gone. Fragmented clips play in the background.

Heavy curtains hanging silent at distant edges, become visible, bringing

about a curious tilt of the head and a questioning furrow to the eyebrows.

 

Supporting. Names appear, rolling from the bottom, falling in to a steady

rhythm. A grin, a grimace, a sleepy nod, a slight tug on the memory and then

off and away.

 

Dim, yellow circles are rising, sneakily, in this corner, over that doorway,

below the rungs of each stair, surreptitiously, slyly trading places with the

glow and flicker of the screen.

 

Heavy, deep-wine curtains.

 

Shadowed figures are rising and leaving, whispering, hunching low.

Most go unnoticed but some elicit a turn of the head, others a wave, as

they move on. A few garner long stares at their now-empty chairs and the

black doorways.

 

Heavy, deep-wine, velvet curtains invoke a longing to brush them with the

tips of the fingers and the palm of the hand, and contemplation.

 

Scenes are playing, nonsense, out of time and focus, fading.

Acknowledgments and disclaimers, musicians, artists, designers,

and the key grip.

The popcorn bucket is empty save for the unpopped kernels. The smell of

old salt and butter enter the memory through closed eyes and a deep

inhale and lands on the lips where the tongue licks them away with a

satisfied groan just a time or two. Or three.

An unopened bag of candy falls to the floor.

Discarded boxes of treats and snacks are strewn in the aisle and in

abandoned seats.

 

Heavy, deep-wine, luxurious velvet curtains wave just slightly to some unknown breeze, forward,

then away.

 

Major characters. One by one.

Hearty laughs.

Bittersweet tears.

Fermented anger.

Gratitude.

Curses.

Gratitude.

 

Heavy, deep-wine, luxurious velvet curtains wave on a

gust of an unknown breeze.

 

Applause.