The theatre had been dark for seven years. Tonight, its lights returned one by one. Behind the curtain, agent Lyra checked her radio and stepped into the narrow beam of a work light. Black gloss traced her silhouette; a gold buckle caught the first glimmer from the stage.
Her assignment was simple: keep the audience watching while a missing witness crossed the service corridor. Lyra lifted the microphone. The opening note filled the hall, covering the soft click of a door behind her.
A red light flashed at the balcony. The exit was blocked. Without breaking the rhythm, she turned toward the wings and signalled the lighting operator. A path of white spotlights appeared along the upper walkway. Her partner understood.
By the final chorus, the witness was safe. Lyra lowered the microphone as the room rose to its feet. For the audience, it was an unforgettable performance. For the person leaving through the side door, it was a way home.
Browse the IRIS shop ↗
