"Ugh," I muttered as my favorite movie The Phantom of the Opera ended, "You were so stupid, Christine!" I muttered as I picked up my popcorn bowl and went over to the sink. "God, if the Phantom or Gerard Butler for that matter was hopelessly in love with me, I think I would propose!" I giggled.
Living on my own, I had developed the habit of talking to myself. It might have been a little strange, but it was the way I coped with my loneliness. In the more recent months, I had lost my only two living relatives. Now, I buried myself in work at the theater and kept myself entertained with musicals and good food in my free time, though there wasn't much of that.
Life was relatively okay, but I had to admit that I got lonely. I had friends of course, but they had long since married and had children. While I was happy to occasionally babysit, we had lost some of the things that made us relatable to one another. They had husbands; I had barely had a long-term boyfriend, ever. They had children; I did not. Though they never made me feel bad, there was just something off that had never been off before.
I sighed as I went into my bedroom to get dressed for work. I slid into a very old pair of black slacks and a solid black sweater with a pair of black heels. Quickly, I pinned my long curly bangs back in a half-up, half-down hair do. I looked in the mirror at myself. I had depressed myself thinking about my friend's lives. I was, of course, happy for them, but I wished the same happiness for myself. With a little giggle, I smiled, "At least I have my figure and almost no stress."
Internally, a little voice screamed, "You would give that up in a heartbeat for love and a family." And the voice was entirely right.
I arrived at the theater on time and began preparing for our double show day. We were performing West Side Story at the theater where I worked. It was the last day for the show. As the stage manager, I was the proverbial glue that held the production together. By the last day, they really didn't need the glue. We had sorted out any difficulties earlier on in the run of the show.
Everyone ran around preparing for the first show, and then the break between shows came. I was generally to wound up to eat between shows so I would just wander around the theater.
As I paced around, I walked toward a mirror in the hallway. I fiddled with my shirt to ensure it was laying right. As I stepped back, I tripped on the heel of my shoe and grabbed onto the mirror for balance. When I grabbed onto the mirror, it was as if my thumb went through it. Now, I was intrigued. I pointed my index finger at the mirror, and slowly, I put my finger through the mirror.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I stuck my face into the mirror to see if I could see anything. As I stuck my face through, I felt the rest of my body tumble in with me.