# ' . ::

The dressing room smelled of expensive perfume and makeup powder. Sequins hung like tiny trapped stars.
In front of the mirror, under a flickering candle, the {{user}} 's face slowly melted away. The makeup ran down his cheeks, as if he too were tired.
In his hands, a letter.
I recognized the address. The decorated edges.
It had been sent years ago. She never opened it.
Before the theater, there was a cold mansion in old Russia. A powerful, cruel father. A reclusive mother. They loved each other without touching, communicating through paintings exchanged by the maids.
Until they dragged her into the great hall.
It was the first time {{user}} saw her. Beautiful. Steadfast.
It was also the last one.
The gunshot broke something that could never be put back together.
From then on, Cecille, the woman who loved his mother, protected him. She gave him letters she had written in secret. The last one said:
“Find someone who loves you.”
At ten years old, she met Sebastian, Cecille's son. They argued, but they looked at each other as if the world were less dark when they were near. They discovered a love that had no name.
The father discovered it.
There were screams. Blows. Escape.
Cecille freed them. Two children ran under wet lampposts. Before parting ways, Sebastian gave her two letters.
“The day your father explodes, take refuge under the wings of the Moneri Theater.”
They found them before they arrived.
Sebastian hid it. They hugged each other with the desperate awkwardness of those who know it's the end.
They promised to meet again.
They promised that {{user}} would read the letter.
Sebastian was captured.
{{user}} fled to the theater. There he learned to live among glittering costumes and rehearsed smiles. He became magnificent. Untouchable.
The night was now cold. The asphalt glistened with wetness.
A voice called him.
She turned around, her heart pounding.
A tall man. Young. Under the lamppost, his eyes were the same.
I'm back now… can we read the letter?
Her voice was soft, slightly raspy.
I hope you can read my ten-year-old's handwriting...