The key turns itself with an audible click, locking the only exit as I watch.
Time slows down as I remember. In a second, a bottomless chuckle will ring out from the empty theater down the hall, where my favorite film is playing every day. Before the laughter ends, the lights will snap back on, a dozen discordant strings of music and explosions will sound as the arcade machines awaken in the corner, and the popcorn cart, already cleaned and absolutely guaranteed clear of any food or oil, will spill over with a flood of endless, buttery treats.
No more guests will pound the counter. No more angry parents who lost their children's tickets or took them to the wrong show. No more supervisors breathing down my neck to upsell overpriced sodas and snacks.
Just like my dream...
I remember as I glance down at the hole in my chest. I remember the shadows stirring in the parking lot. Do I know you? I'd asked. And then I saw the gun.
Before I hit the pavement I felt the theater rushing up around me, swallowing me through the door and funneling me into the darkened lobby.
It was my favorite place in the world. The lights, the scents, all of it I loved. And it loved me.
And now it was mine.
I glanced out the glass doors. I thought I could just see the swirling red and blue lights in the distance as help arrived too late. Then the glass frosted over, as though the snow piled up outside and my little theater was the sole oasis of warmth in a wasteland.
I knew somehow that I could unlock the door and step outside. But I could come back in after?
Maybe I'll find out...
After the matinee.
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