Echoes of a Forgotten Stage

The spotlight feels…distant. A warm ghost on my skin, reminding me of applause that isn’t here.
They say success changes everything, but the silence in these grand halls is the same as it was before the first audition. It's a hollow sound, one I used to fill with dreams and now…with memories of you.
I remember the way your hand felt, brushing against mine when you passed me the water bottle backstage – a simple gesture, lost in the chaos, yet etched so vividly within my mind.
We were both chasing shadows then, weren't we? Yours probably looked different than mine—more defined, perhaps. But I see now that sometimes, the most beautiful things are those left unfinished, lingering in the realm of what-ifs.
Tonight’s crowd is a blur of expectant faces and flashing lights. A sea of strangers whose hopes and disappointments don't matter.
Except for you, who isn't here. I wonder if you would have recognized me even without the stage makeup or elaborate costumes, just another face in the crowd hoping to be noticed.

Editor: The Unfinished