I stand in the corner of the gallery, one of my favorite places. It is one of the few places where standing people have a full picture of the interaction between characters.On my right side, a young woman moves closer to me. She tries to have a better picture as she cannot see the right side of the stage. I barely see her silhouette. She is quite shorter than me, a petite frame. I make some space and indicate with a gest to come where I was myself. I will stand behind her. It is not easy to communicate without making noise disturbing the other people around us. I cannot tell whether she did not understand my gesture or if she is just shy and reserved. She gets closer yet leaves some space between us. In moving 20 or 25cm further, she still would not disturb me or anybody else, and she would also see the action in a much better way.Without even thinking about it, I move my hand and place it in the small of her back. With a light pressure, I push her to come closer. A gentle yet firm. She hummed quietly to herself. It hadn’t been a great day, but maybe it could still be a good night.She could hope for that, right?Sam collapsed, banging her knees on the sidewalk. Her stomach felt like it was being stabbed. She grabbed at her clothes, frantically trying to unzip her coat and lift her shirt. There, beneath her navel, a ring of foreign letters were being burned into her skin, sizzling as if she had been stuck with a brand. She sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to cry, completely at a loss. The pain started to fade just as quickly as it came, but black ink remained in its place.Her phone rang. She almost had a heart attack.“Hello?” she gasped, not yet getting her voice back in working order.“Where are you?”The voice was feminine and intimately familiar. It was Salesh, her roommate. Sam had always thought her name was a bit odd, but when mothers were naming their daughters things like Khaleesi and Ezrelda she didn’t really give it much—_this_ isn’t the time to be.
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