She said closer, Ol

Monday night. Bookshop back room. Kate on the wobbly stool like she said she would be.

I run the middle bit for her. The hard bit. The Moleskine bit. The one that isn't a costume.

She folds her arms. Does the face. Then she says, that was closer, Ol.

Closer. Not close. Just closer.

I know what that word means. People have said it to me before. Loads of times. It means I almost got there. It means I didn't.

Then I do a stupid thing. I ask her to come back Thursday. The full run. Same room.

That's two times. That's me letting her in twice. I don't do that. I let someone in once and then I make a joke and they laugh and I close the door.

I sit on the bus home and I feel sick. Not the panic sick. The other sick. The sick where I think, what if she sees the whole thing and there's nothing real in there at all.

That's the bit I can't write on stage.