He woke with a start, his mind replaying his dream, but each time a bit faded, until it made no sense. He got the message loud and clear though. He put the book on his nightstand and got up. It was morning already, the sky the same grey shade.

Going towards the theatre he went inside the coffee shop, ordered his herbal tea and sat down at the table he sat the other day. Opening his book, he tuned out the world.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Upon hearing this voice, his heart quickened its pace. He looked up and saw the same amazing eyes, above a smile as if an artist painted it on the most beautiful face he has ever seen.

“Angela! No, please sit down” he offered, still a bit troubled.

“Thank you. How do you know my name? asked the girl, although she didn’t seem troubled by this.

“Let’s just say it was a lucky guess” said Blake, smiling.

He was getting a second chance, and he was not willing to let it go to waste.

Stepping out into the street, he was pleasantly surprised to find the sun shining down on them.

The next morning he posted up the sign:

“Are you talented? Independent theatre looking for talented artists to star in their latest production. Be advised it is a whole new concept. Auditions will be held at “Legion Theatre”.

Even as he was setting up the announcement, the play started taking form in his head, something he felt really happy for.

The next day he was pleasantly surprised to find several young people already present at the theatre. He invited them all in and started the audition.

“Greetings everyone. As you’ve read in the announcement, we are starting a whole new production. It so happens that it’s a one man production. I am Blake, your producer, director, and fellow actor. I would like you to present yourself and I will present the idea to you”.

“Hi, I’m Cynthia and I’m from New York” said a tall blonde, whose features would have the female population of New York die of envy.

“Hi, I’m Michael and I’m from Ohio” said a tall, but slender man, who appeared in his late 20s. His attire looked like it belonged in the 70s but it was perfect for him.

“Hi all, my name is Sarah, and I’m from Arizona” a deeply tanned red head beamed at everyone.

“Hello, my name is Patrick and I’m from Boston” a well built, dark haired man said, one who could have been the quarterback for his high school.

The last person to introduce themselves made their way to the front of the stage and Blake’s heart skipped a beat. It was…

“Hi, my name is Angela and I’m from Vermont” said the crystalline voice, with her eyes sparkling as she looked at their producer.

“Great, thanks everyone” said Blake, “I’m glad we’ve got to know each other. Now, the idea is maybe new to you. I want to put on a show called “Pretend” and it’s silent theatre, meaning we have to express ourselves mainly through sign and body language. No words. Of course acting is pretending to be someone else, but I want to try to push things to the next level. Don’t just pretend to be somebody else, be somebody else. Be the character, forget yourself. It will take time, but thank God all we have is time. There is no deadline to this, only the chance to perfect it. What do you say?”

There was a slow murmur, then finally someone spoke. It was Patrick.

“So what do we have to do exactly?”

“The idea is this – relationships breaking. In today’s world we use thousands of words to express our hurt, so much in fact that nobody focuses on expressions, feelings….just words. You will be paired up according to everyday situations and relationships, then try to capture the essence of break-up. Are you up for it?”

They all agreed.

And so they got started.

First there was Patrick with Sarah. They were supposed to be dating each other for several months. They walked on the stage, hand in hand, gazing softly at each other, small smiles dancing on their faces. You could almost believe they were in love.

Blake was the only one talking, giving out simple instructions. Patrick and Sarah sat down on a blanket, and spread out the contents of a picnic basket. They enjoyed their meal, than Patrick laid down, with his head in Sarah’s lap. It was a serene sight.

Then Blake announced it is time for the break-up. In that instant Patrick’s face became sad. It happened gradually. His smile started to fade, his eyes grew more serious, his whole body language shifted. Whereas he was more relaxed, now he was stiff, almost as a board. Sarah was looking questioningly at him, surprise clearly visible on her face.

Patrick sat up, turning to Sarah, and looking at her. Slowly he stretched out his hand, his palm cupping Sarah’s cheek. His eyes spoke volumes of his love for her, but there was also a deep sadness. Sarah lay her cheek in Patrick’s hand, closed her eyes and reveled in his warmth. Then, as she looked up at him, he started shaking his head slowly, marking the impossibility of something. He withdrew his hand and hung his head. Realization swept across Sarah’s face and tears pooled in her eyes. Patrick’s face also looked distraught. He stood up, turned his back to the girl and started towards the exit. Sarah jumped up, embraced Patrick from behind and buried her head in his shoulder, in an attempt to stop him from leaving her. Patrick opened her arms gently, turned, kissed her forehead, looked once again in her teary eyes and left. Sarah crumpled on the floor, buried her face in her hands and cried silent sobs.

The audience said nothing. They were all mesmerized by the silent story in front of them.

Then it was time for Michael and Cynthia. They were a married couple, having dinner in their dining room. The atmosphere was quiet, signs of their passion long gone, content of being rocked gently in the boat of their marriage.

At Blake’s sign, the scene unfolded. Cynthia put down her fork and knife, signaling the end of her meal. She crossed her arms and looked at Michael, who was still eating. Her eyes were moving slowly across his face, as if trying to remember the man she married so long ago. Not seeing what she was looking for, her face showed her discontent. Finally Michael stopped eating and looked at his wife, smiling, silently thanking her for the delicious dinner. He did realize though that something was amiss. Her usual smile was gone and her eyes were darker. He did not know what happened. Raising his eyebrows he asked a silent question. At first Cynthia stayed in her seat, then abruptly stood up. Startled by this, Michael fell on his back. Cynthia came next to him, but not to help, rather than to look down on him, her face contorted in a mask of disgust seeing her husband a weak man. Getting up, Michael apologized with his eyes, smiling sheepishly, but it did not move Cynthia. She started towards what was the dining room door, where two suitcases were visible. She pointed to Michael, the suitcases and the door. He didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand what was going on. He tried to plead with her, reaching his arms towards her, yearning for a touch, but she extended her hand, a clear sign for him not to come near her. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes moving quickly from one point to another, as if their moves helped his mind create a decision. In the end, his face darkened, turned Cynthia toward him, and with a general sweep of his arm showed her all he gave her. She threw her arms in exasperation, as if saying material things aren’t the most important in the world. Angrily, Michael made his way to the door, picked up his suitcases, looked back one more time and left, not without letting escape a painful stare to what was his life.

“Excellent” said Blake. “You are truly gifted and I am sure the play will be a success. You really manage to send out the message I was looking for”.

The final scene included Blake and Angela. It was almost a reenactment of their encounter the other day. Blake was sitting at his table in the coffee shop, when Angela entered. She went to his table, and pointed at his seat, as if asking if it was available. He nodded and Angela sat down. Blake’s expression betrayed his excitement when they shook hands, as they introduced themselves. Angela pointed at his book, wanting to know what he was reading, which gave him the opportunity to tell the story of a young writer, still not uttering one word. It was an animated story. After the story, Angela looked at her watch and hastily got up, in order to leave. She waved good-bye then left.

Blake sat at the table for a couple of long minutes, symbolizing him waiting for her every day, at the same table. But she never came. Blake realizing this started to question his behavior. Did he do something to push her away? Was this another missed chance of companionship or perhaps….love? He was so determined of not getting hurt by anyone that he closed himself in his self made castle, feeling safe inside its impenetrable walls. He was pushing humanity away from him, and for the first time it dawned on him. He was all alone. And his heart broke in that instant.

He looked around only to see the darkness envelope Patrick and Sarah holding hands, Michael and Cynthia standing next to each other, and Angela, looking at him, the sparkles in her eyes slowly dying. The next moment all was dark, and he was standing in the middle of the stage, with the overhead light casting its cold glow upon him. Alone. All alone.

The sky was a dark grey. Has been for several days now. People hoped they would catch a glimpse of the life supporting sun, but it’s all they were left with. Hope. Even though it was dark, there was no chance for rain. The clouds simply hung on the sky, their main purpose to hide the beautiful blue roof of the world.

Blake made its way, unhurriedly through the morning crowd. People were milling like ants, each and every one prisoner of their own existence, cell phones attached to their ears, breathing automatically, running from one place to another, standing in line in coffee shops buying their charger for the day. He considered himself lucky of having 9 to 5 a job, where he would be forced to sit behind a desk and do some crazy boss’ biding.

He was a producer in a theatre. Ever since he was a child he liked to create his own plays. He made friends however, and those friends would end up in his little shows. Being an only child was a relief for him in a way – no one to interrupt him from his creative process, no one to share anything with. Of course there were times when he felt lonely, but his friends more than made up for any sibling.

On his way to work, he stopped by a little coffee shop to get his usual herbal tea. The tea was his drug. Whenever he was sad, or sick, herbal tea was the antidote. Sitting down at a nearby table, he scooped up his book from his bag and started enjoying his morning in peace.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? Everywhere else is full” a crystal voice asked.

Blake looked up and said in a stern voice “Yes, I’m waiting for someone”.

Finishing his tea, he stepped out into the street, let the ocean of pedestrians sweep him away. He reached the desolate building which claimed to be a theatre, the faded sign reading “Legion theatre”. At this time the building is empty, as auditions were held in the early afternoon. Blake grabbed a chair and sat down in the middle of the stage. It was his favorite spot. Here he could think, he could imagine the great hall full, excited people in the audience waiting breathlessly the new play, the actors running around behind the curtains, panicked because they can’t remember their lines, or the outfits were all wrong. He craved the commotion, the yells, the applause, the music.

He sat on his chair, gazing at the overhead lamp, emptying his mind, wishing for some inspiration from a muse who might feel sorry for him. He gazed for hours on end, but the only image that came to his mind was that of Angela’s.
The floor creaked, startling him.

“Is anybody there?” asked cautiously.

“Pretend” he heard somebody whisper.

Blake looked around, but the giant room was swallowed by a dense darkness, except the light from the ceiling.
“Pretend” came the whisper again.
The entire atmosphere was beginning to feel creepy. Blake’s little hairs on his neck were prickling and an overall sense of panic overcame him. Slowly he made his way to the door and exited the building, relieved to be out in the open again.

He never realized that the time has flown by, and it was already evening.

“Great, another day of not doing anything,.” he mutered to himself and made his way towards the little studio apartment he called home.

After serving dinner, he lay down his bed, determined to read a few more chapters of his book. After reading several, the book fell on his chest, as he was already asleep, fully clothed.