She was always there, in the shadows, making sure everything went smoothly. She was the one who fixed the broken props, adjusted the lighting, cued the music, and calmed the nerves of the performers.
She was the one who stayed up late, rehearsing every scene, memorizing every line, and anticipating every problem. She was the one who loved the stage more than anything else in the world.
She wondered what it would be like to be in their shoes, to be admired and appreciated, to be someone. She wondered if anyone would ever see her for who she really was, for what she could do, for how she felt.
She was always there, in the shadows, making sure everything went smoothly. But no one knew her name.
She died alone, in her small apartment, surrounded by scripts and posters and tickets
She was buried in an unmarked grave, in a forgotten cemetery, in a remote town. No one came to her funeral, no one mourned her loss, no one remembered her existence. She was gone, like she never existed