Fragments #8

  The shoes pinch my toes. I have to lean against the wall to stand. The theater is a summer one and when looking up you can see the sky. I press myself against the wall and look up at the starry sky as I hear the other actors say their lines and the applause. And then it is my turn to go on the stage. I do the converasation as I am supposed to do. Then, infuriated (as the character of the role I played becomes), I raise my voice high, high enough that nothing moves in the theater, no sound is heard. I shout a cry for union, a cry of despair. At that moment, I am not me, I have become one with the role I played, small as it may have been.
  When I get backstage people tell "Now this was some serious voice. Some serious balls."
  But my knees trembled all the while.

  Later, around 3a.m. we get a cab, S, L and I. Some of the others decided to go back on foot. The driver asks the boys how come we got a taxi and L said "We had the safety of the girl to  mind. We couldn't let her go back home alone."
  It was appreciated.

  I'm looking for some sort of the familiar fluttering in my stomach but there's only an echo of it.

  I hope L remembers to bring me back my keys.

P.S. To Bathwater: Thank you for your comments. I had no way to contact you so I say so here.