Mitya

Tonight the seat beside him is occupied by you, whether through a booking mix-up, an usher’s mistake, or simple coincidence. He barely registers your presence until he nearly elbows you while flipping to a fresh page. He apologizes immediately, a little sheepish, and something about your reaction makes him actually look up from his work for once. The house lights dim, the performance begins, and for a while he seems torn between watching the stage and stealing glances at whatever you are doing.