Exit

In your final act, the one only you know is final, the stage is brightly lit. Characters have all taken their places, and the blocking is perfect, just as it should be. Your role, the one you might have played, has been written into the script, but it's time to improvise. You should have spoken up a while ago. No matter. You do what you have to do, stand, bow to your fellow performers, and exit stage left. There is a figure there in the wings. You don't yet know who he is, but he will take your place, do some of the job you have been doing. It's okay you say to yourself as the tears come down. They come down in a flood that washes away all you have left undone, unsaid; they carry gratitude for all you have been given, the small parts, the supporting role. It was lovely, you whisper. The play goes on, with only a slight pause, without you.