Stranger

One of the lines was burning a hole in my mental pocket.

She slipped out of shadow, a wistful-looking girl
with sorrow in her eyes.
“Who are you?” I asked, and she gazed out at me-
For seconds? For eternity?

“I am an actress, sir,” then turned away to leave.
“Wait!” I called. “Where do you perform?”
She turned once more, and there seemed to be
ice behind her solemnity.

“I deal not in the grandeur of the stage, but in subtler theatrics,”
averted her face, and melted into the trees.