>phantom puts on every show in her power to make anon smile
>at most a snort at a pun, nothing real, nothing in his eyes
>nothing is working
>more and more convincing has to be done to get him to come to the next premiere
>until he stops responding and doesn't show up at all
>she can't write anymore. the pressure suppresses her creativity, thus all that she is
>ill memories of her own rise from the depths, strangling her with found regret
>her worst play comes forth
>half fiction, all misery. it can hardly be called writing, it is simply one scene after the next, like an unnourished life to a unfinished end
>a solo show, for she could not ask anyone to play any part
>so she can perfectly recite all the things once said to her in those wounding ways
>anon hears a show he wasn't invited to
>it's not as bombastic as they usually are
>not as loud as they usually are
>no music like there usually is
>no one's laughing
>he goes by stealth to see it
>he still does not smile
>he feels
Step up on stage and turn both of your lives around forever in one inspiring moment, or let her go through with it and help her after she lets it all out?