The Story on This Side of the Screen

Before the film screens a window to another world, conversations in a movie theater fill the silence. This was before the trivia games and advertisements took advantage of the empty frame. You could listen to them. Couples. First dates. Budding adults. Seasoned vets. There is another single reading something. She's older. There will be at least seven more by the time the velvet curtain parts, and the light illuminates the white, an indication of the clearly marked emergency exits, and a request to turn phones to silent. The story starts without a forbidding of fruit and some smartass bites an apple. Breaks the illusion. A few feel offended and leave. Fewer reserve judgment till the end, when the stream of names wraps into a tight reel, when the curtain closes to protect the screen from accumulating dust in the interim.