Stage Fright Comments

I waited behind the curtains with my hands around the waist of some guy that I hated. We used to sit in the downstairs lobby avoiding eye contact and awkward conversation, but now we stood in victorian dresses and shirts, trying to forget our past.
It was late. The intolerance of fatigue. And he smelt of his car and that made things just a little bit more difficult.
Had I been polite, I would of wished him good luck, that was the person I had become.
He was good looking, of coarse, athletic build and a broken smile that every now and again he fixed. And beneath all his make up, the stage lights and the nerves I saw the way he bit his lip. The way he used to.
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