Encore

By Hueston Milbrand

Outside, the old marquee shivered once and went black.

Inside, dust covered the threadbare velvet.

Delphine sat alone in the crumbling theater, tears flickering in the dimmed light.

A golden-haired girl twirled across the screen, radiant, untouchable.

Years curled away like burning film until they had become one. She fell into his arms and he into her gaze.

“All we have is this moment, darling,” he said.

“Then let’s never let it end,” she replied.

Silvered faces arose from the shadows and swelled into thunderous applause.

The douser clicked; the screen went black.

The darkness folded in. The theater was empty.