841. A final bow?
© Bruce Goodman 29 January 2016
Alex was into amateur theatre. It couldn’t be said he had the lead role in the latest production. In fact, it couldn’t really be said that he had even a minor role in the latest production. Towards the end of the play, Alex had to carry the front end of a bier onto the stage and place it down solemnly. Someone else carried the back end, and then they would walk off. The body on board had to breathe as little as possible to make it look like a corpse.
Alex was nervous about appearing on stage. After all, despite all the hard work by the cast, the production had a season of just the one night. He’d waited in the back room for three quarters of an hour for his moment to arrive. He played cards while he waited. He’d never been on stage before. He had sweaty hands. What if he dropped the body or something?
Then he heard clapping. It was applause coming from the auditorium. Clearly the audience was enjoying the performance.
What’s this? A standing ovation? But it’s not finished yet, surely?
Alex’s moment of glory had passed without him.