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“Another night, another show. Another night, another show.” Fizz quietly recited as he looked himself over in the mirror for the third time that night.
His earliest memories were of a crowd and the dirt floor under circus tents. The world saw him as a natural under the spotlights and tonight’s routine would flow as smoothly as any other but those butterflies always seemed to make an appearance.
He didn’t know anything else and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pacing back and forth, he imagined stepping out on the stage, hyping himself up to welcome the sea of unremarkable faces to tonight’s show as the only one that mattered smiled down at him from his box seat, with a warmth hotter than any spotlight.
Lost in the moment, Fizz barely registered the knocking at the door.
Another knock accompanied an exasperated call through the door “2 minutes!”, Fizz couldn’t help but let out a laugh as the hints of a smile painted his face.
He would never admit it but those calls before a performance had become part of his routine in getting ready. A presence that called him back to the present.
Taking a final moment to look himself over in the mirror, making sure everything was in its proper place, he took a deep breathe before turning his neutral expression into an animated one, “ok, Fizz, show time.”
Fizz, oozing with showman confidence, opened the door to his dressing room and headed towards the stage.