The distressed actor had forgotten his lines; stood silent before the stalls; Hamlet slipped from his heels. He returned to his dressing room mirror.
– ‘Where are you? . . . Where are you ghost, you traveler?’
He breathed on the mirror until he disappeared. The soft prince spoke.
– ‘Conscience doth make cowards of us all.’
– ‘I’m frightened.’
– ‘Wait. Just wait. I’m almost here.’

The End.

 

© Simon Jagger

 

 

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