A pale, blonde woman in pink scrubs first asks my name and birthday. She has an accent that sounds Scandinavian, and she looks past the tears in my eyes as I answer her questions. She leads me down a ... [+]
if you concentratehard enough, sometimesthe fourth wall breaks—fading just a momentto darkened hallslive audience hangingonto every wordlips red for stageyour favourite shirta scratchy costume crew adjusting lensesbright lights, microphoneslooming overheaddirector sipping coffeewriters angrily squabblingover words you thoughtcame from your heart ersatz onions floating in the pota man who only pretendsto love you; a stranger'sthoughts in your minddistracted byiPhone buzzingagainst your/their thigh— then backin the privacyof your little kitchen nothing in your pocketheartbroken husbandgrasping f