”Karajan back hands me. Fresh blood creeps from my upper right lip, where it cut against my teeth. Karajan is not satisfied. He stands, paces—a...dressing the room, as if it were filled with spectators, as if it were an amphitheatre, a courtroom. “What are you sorry for?" He asked, in control again. "Be specific.” And he turns to me, is still. Glaring. Smirking.He pulls out his knife. Karajan wants specifics.The thought of his hands and shoulders and his knife brings me closer.... . Real good. Like, super fit and I don’t think her hair had ever looked as pretty. We made eye contact and she gave me a hug.“Congrats on the play! It was so great! I’m so proud of you,” she said.We made small-talk and I learned she and her husband (Greg? I think she said his name is Greg) divorced last winter and she was in the midst of moving back home. She came to the play with her mother. We agreed to meet for drinks next weekend to catch up.As the crowd started to thin out, and cast members. More

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