The audience filed in. Excitement filled the air. A buzz of swishing coats and hushed conversation. Flash of cameras.
A few fans sidled reverently to the still-empty stage.
“I see his water bottle!” Millicent pointed.
“I know!” Brenda answered breathlessly.
The two grabbed hold of each other, starry-eyed with anticipation.
They could hardly believe they were about to breathe the same air as he.
A curse sounded. A figure stumbled into sight. Two men rushed behind to all but drag it back offstage.
“Could it…?” Brenda whispered, crestfallen.
“No!” Millicent demanded. “He won’t. Let’s find our seats.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers