He paces the floor, slowly searching the house. He’s been here before – in circumstances beyond his control, with strangers he may not see again. But he keeps coming back, hoping next time will be different: better.

His mind wanders. He imagines tears, laughter, and hurrahs. He sees adoration in the eyes of far-off onlookers; hears gasps of shock and excitement as he approaches. He feels himself being embraced by old friends and comrades. He relives fights with adversaries he has yet to earn, and waxes poetic about loves he has never lost. Within his reverie, he is the center of the world.

Hearing his name brings him back. The director calls, and adds another ensemble crossing to his part. Aside from what she has him fill-in, he has two lines midway through the second act, and an unceremonious death at the hands of the crazed hero in the third. Such is the life of a young actor.

He’ll be the star someday; but for now, he must work.