The stage is bare except for a black chair and a single red rose underneath.
The Black Widow enters the stage, dressed in a black-n-white cat suit, and takes her place in the center.
She commands attention behind the closed velvet curtains – her ebony features worth the price of admission.
Some in the audience have seen her in a variation of the dance she will perform tonight.
She is a natural dancer, like her mother, before she realized who she was.
The conductor taps his baton as the orchestra readies the instruments.
The house lights fade and the curtain glides open revealing the Black Widow seated, knees at a ninety-degree angle, arms outstretched above her head.
The music starts, yet she does not move. She doesn’t move or make any indication that she’s aware of the live music or audience.
The orchestra continues under the direction of the conductor, yet she sits immobile in her chair.
The stage manager flicks a flashlight on and off to try to stir her.
She lowers her arms, reaches down and picks up the rose, and sits upright.
An investor in the front row shifts uncomfortably in his seat next to his wife.
The Black Widow stands, pushes the chair backward with an extended leg, and exits stage right.
The conductor continues to lead the orchestra, unsure of what to do.
The stage manager can’t convince the Black Widow to return to the stage.
The curtains close.
End of her career.