Ahhh, Mango! King of Fruits

The cast took a final bow, hands clasped down the line, hats removed- long hair flipping the last of played persona behind.

The now standing audience, moved upward by the starkness of just human, roared with deep reverence and maybe some fear.

The violent clapping doubled as a way to release Viola's own pent up shit.

As most people hurried to exit the theater, Viola remained standing for a minute, staring at the stage still, hands now silently clasped in front of her heart. She began to feel the blood rush back into her fingertips and started to gather her purse and coat. Exiting was more like a gateway to the entrance. The members of the cast were still somewhat lined up on either side of the hallway to the vestibule, now reflecting amongst themselves, smiling with laughing accomplishment, many carrying bouquets of flowers. Viola stammpered forward, her eyes dodging eyes through the hall into the more open vestibule. As she came to it, she took a last breath in and out.

Image from unknown source

Acting on a slightness, an impulse of necessity, after gently pressing her left molars and canine teeth together, her eyes in turn rolling to the left shoulder that her purse hung down from, she pivoted to the right and re-entered the hall. This time, her eyes caught his and did not fall. If it were any other time, he would be caught surprised to see her, but now, somehow, it was natural. He didn't really smile, though his eyes seemed soft and a bit hungry. He waited for her to speak first. Her eyes still unblinking, she ran her tongue across her top teeth, swallowed, reached into her purse and pulled out a ripened mango and cupped it in her hands as if it were a baby bird.

"You were really good," she said as she handed him the mango. "I guess I've always known that, after all."
"It's my last night in town. Funny it's the last night of the show. I'm glad I caught it."