she said closer

She sat with her arms crossed. She did not need to say a word. Her face already said it.

I held the paper I did not need. I ran the middle bit for her. The part I do not say on stage. The part where it gets real.

She listened. She did not laugh. That was fine. I did not write it to make her laugh.

Then she said, that was closer, Ol.

Closer.

Not good. Not bad. Just closer. Like she can see I am trying and that is all she can see.

I have spent seven years learning her face. I still do not know what to do when it goes soft. I want her to say it landed. I want her to say it did not. I do not want her to say closer.

I stood by the fridge after she went to bed. I ate some cheese. I did not feel like a comic. I felt like a kid from Manchester with a paper in his hand.

Closest I have got. Not close enough.