The First Cue

A sudden pulse stirred beneath the folds of my fabric. My arms had been frozen mid-gesture in a dramatic pose. Slowly... with calculated suspense... I tested the tension in my right arm. It yielded. My gloved fingers curled inward, obeying my own volition. I pivoted gently backward and tapped the edge of my knuckles against the cold iron railing behind me. Clink. The metallic ring echoed softly in the crisp autumn air. I held entirely still, savoring the deliberate timing of the echo against the silent wooden coffin backdrop. I was no longer a static exhibit. Lowering my hand, I resumed my quiet, watchful stance.