Micro-Shorts

THE FAN:

I can handle it. No big deal. He’s only human.

Backstage is stuffy. Claustrophobic. She clutches the posters in sweat-slicked hands; feeling dirty – but only because she’s been part of the crush of thousands for the past two hours listening to him.

Mesmerized.

Chaos ensues. Her heartbeat quickens.

I can handle it. No big deal. Don’t you dare...

He appears.

All male. Sweat. Breathless. Surrounded by those who clamor for his attention.

She feels small ...insignificant.

But somehow, he spots her...finally. He smiles, knees weaken, and just before she hits the ground, she reminds herself again...

Don’t you dare faint.


_______________


MEMORIES:

The chorus of cicadas mingled with the familiar sounds; their squeals of delight as the broken water pump bathed glistening skins with crystalline droplets. The boys had stripped down to their shorts and the girls into bathing suits. Time stood still for even the adults would sit on their porches and watch with wistful smiles as they recalled their youth.

He laughed and danced with them; skipped and hopped in joy, and just when he was about to dive beneath the wet sprays for a third time...reality came crashing down with slight impatience.

“Wake up, Michael. It’s time to rehearse.”