Total Black

I am the only one in row three.

The air smells of stale butter

and the industrial cleaner used

to scrub away the weekend’s noise.

Then the lights go out completely—

that thick, heavy second

before the projector clears its throat.

It is the kind of dark that feels

like being underwater without the weight.

The red 'Exit' sign bleeds

into the empty plastic cup holders,

a faint, bloody glow that says

you could leave, but you won't.