Categories > Theatre > Rent0 Reviews
He let his voice be heard. (Rating for slight cussing)
For once in his goddamn life, after the years of hiding behind his camera, after the lesson he had last learned bringing his emotions out, he could feel the release.
He stood alone in the loft that morning. Roger, at Mimi's apartment, had left Mark alone that night to sit on his bed, until the blue hours of the morning appeared.
This of course gave him ample time to think.
And oh the places his thoughts took him...
He pushed aside a curtain
The other one
The fool some called him, "Poor Marky" they could say to him he often ignored the pity, but at the same time soaked it up, he craved it.
This is what sent him with his tail between his legs behind the camera. He had sworn on that day he would not show emotion again, because he had to be the cornerstone. He was the example, the witness, the damn roll of duct tape that kept everyone together.
When Angel had entered the scene that Christmas eve long ago, he felt a small weight of his back. An Angel had helped him carry his load. Then the trickster wind of Halloween swept that Angel away.
He brought a pale hand to the pull on the blinds. He stopped for a moment and studied it. Small calluses had formed from working so much with his instrument; he could feel the tips which were cold and numb.
He opened the blinds and let the early morning light flood in. It enveloped his thin frame and washed through his very soul.
As the sun crept over the monumental buildings that seemed to be built by God himself, and hit his face he let his voice be heard. He told every one in that goddamn city, his throat had seemed to catch fire and a tear glistened down his cheek.
"I am Mark!"