In the room with only the radio for company, a moment of peace and quintessential solidarity, just catching up with a brief moment of normality.
In the room as the clock checks off each passing second, these last moments before duty beckons. A situation beyond reckoning as he adjusts the corners of his bow-tie in need of perfecting.
In the room with white washed walls and greying floors, holding the weight of nervous excitement that sets the tips of his laced up dress shoes a quiver, eyes fixed to the reflective glass for the tiniest sliver of imperfection.
In the room with calming harmonies and mellow tunes, enough to make anyone swoon. Take five and breath again before once again commencing the fanfair, and so many eager eyes ready to stare.
In the room with the creeking red chair, helping you up as you prepare and become, as they say, all debenair. Brush the dust off the shoulders and get one final comb through the hair, it’s showtime, my dear.