NEW YORK DREAM

Winner: "Pockets" by Caroline Morris

Dec. 2021

Kaylyn’s hand pushes the no-plug-in vacuum back and forth, back and forth across the matted carpet that is never meant to be seen with the lights all the way up. Poorly, so poorly, the trying-its-best-to-be-a-real vacuum swipes halfheartedly at crumbs and tickets and tissues and one black hair tie.

Kaylyn’s grubby hand gathers the mighty debris and casts it into the cheap and silky pocket of her merlot vest, god-like. An earring back joins its fallen brethren in Tartarus.

The theatre watches her. People think, they always think, that they are the ones doing the watching here. They watch Troilus and Ulysses watching Cressida and Diomedes. They watch Thersites watching Troilus and Ulysses watching Cressida and Diomedes. The curtains and wings and floorboards and lights watch them watching. People, these people, never know.

But Kaylyn does. Her fingers brush the battered carpet and she feels the building shiver, like she touched the delicate skin behind its earlobe. Tiny bits of gravel stick to her palm. She picks up a coffee cup stirrer, folds it in half, and tucks it away. The carpet sees.

She exits at a time of night when she shouldn’t be alone. She takes in a deep suck of air and it is not damp or musky. How disappointing.

Her hands shove into the pockets of her matted North Face jacket that she has worn for far too long. They are filled with dollar-store butterscotches and a ferry receipt from four months ago.

Kaylyn will return tomorrow. The theater is anticipatory and breathless. So is she. This is it. New York Dream.