Chris and I walk hand in hand down to the theater. His white hair is in a braid, but little strands of it escape and soar around his head.
"I didn't know it'd be this windy." He says when we reach the theater, smoothing his hair down. I tussle it again. "Hey!"
"I like it messy." I grin. He kisses me and opens the door, flicking on the light.
He gasps, and i turn to see why. The theater is a mess. Chairs are flipped over, props are all askew, and papers upon papers litter the floor.
"What the hell?" I cry.
Chris kneels in the middle of the floor.
"All my hard work..." he whispers. His hands finds a note on the floor. He reads then hands it to me.
You know what you did. Beware.