I got to the theater every afternoon, prepping props and coordinating with lighting.
Always half-smiling through the buzz of excitement that this show brought in.
Outside the theater, the humdrum of bills and overdue emails seemed to chase me endlessly.
Making every moment here a brief escape yet a new source of stress.
The subtle power in this place rested with the director.
A cool presence who rarely raised their voice.
But they held everything in a grip of unspoken authority.
You could see it when they ignored questions or dismissed concerns with a slight glance.
They favored certain cast members, while others—like me—were expected to keep quiet.
And make things run smoothly, no matter what happened backstage.
Escalation had followed a steady path these past weeks.
Three weeks ago, the performer had first hinted at changing the costume to something more provocative.
Two weeks ago, the director reluctantly agreed to try the new look during rehearsal.
Despite some crew unease.
A week ago, some whispered complaints began to surface.
About the impact on other performers and staff.
Three days ago, the costume was finalized, and tensions rose visibly.
With late-night meetings that ended in terse silence.
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