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Billions of stars came to nothing,
When we had been more informal with each other.


Please.

There are only lingering and endless tonalities in the receiver.

I beg you.

Any answers. There are only silence and eternity between annoying tonalities, which etched in the mind.

"It's time! Run at the stage!" shouts a producer, and she scoots, dials a number once again, throwing herself from a wall to other, and hears silence anew.

He missed her debut.

She will dance single.

Is it possible that he will not see her?

Is it possible that he will not see the dance of her whole life?

She tries to catch approaching tears and to hide them deeply in herself. As ever. So far that they would bugger off and would give all of the energy of pain to her body. That she would dance as well as everyone would cry, that...

"Run at the stage!" it sounds the bass voice of producer.

She was convulsed with a drone of words, her hands feeble, and the phone falls down, breaking by a floor. The producer can not put up with her. He runs up to her, seizes by the hand and pushes her out a room.

A corridor spreads in a fog. She can not move.

On the whole Earth there is only one person, who can bring her to her senses. To her life.

But he is not near.

And suddenly she was dazzled with soffits. In response to them a spark glows in her cheats. It becomes larger and larger and finally it eclipses artificial lights by merging with them.

She rushes past them, past everything: an audience, soffits, windows, buildings. She flies on the heels of her thoughts, she speeds away in sky and rushes in a straight line to the sun.

It reduces her soul to ashes.

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