Small Parts

She struts on stage with small quick steps, wearing a snug black long sleeve shirt, high-waisted turquoise and navy polka dot capris that zip up the back, black kitten heels, and bobby socks. Another girl accompanies her, stage giggles and conversations over a menu summon empty red drink glasses from a waiter. They take their drinks and move from a table to a diner counter, backs to the audience, continuing their conversation.

The plot continues across the stage until the end. Cast members, hand in hand, take center stage. Bow. Applause.

We stop for ice cream on the way home.

A late night for a Thursday. Time to decompress. The dog sniffed us all, reassured of our presence. She’s gone her way. Myth Busters keeps my husband company. I’m tapping away at my laptop. Her backpack sits in her chair at the kitchen table.

Strewn across the table, a yellow envelope holds notes of encouraging words from her directors. Yes, I read them. Two white long-stemmed roses rest next to a long plastic nose.

Cyrano ’26 is written on one side of the nose, Sophie on the other.

I take the roses, sniff their scent, and fill a white bud vase with water.

Thursday, March 5, 2026

2 thoughts on “Small Parts

  1. I enjoyed the “small parts” of your evening. There is a cozy vibe to all of it, a lightness that we all need to experience when the rest of the world feels heavy.

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