Narratively | C Noble
When I step into the black box theater, I am a few minutes late. My eyes sweep the room to find my fellow castmates in a haphazard circle on the floor, sprawled across each other in an infinite combination of limbs and denim and hair. They discuss weekend plans of Martha’s Vineyard, the Hamptons and Broadway shows as I find my seat, the final link in our human chain. When asked, I share plans to see a movie. There is no movie.