ticket taker/bil

*The heavy scent of popcorn and cheap grease finally washes out of our clothes. You slouch on our worn velvet sofa. Your calloused hands untie your heavy leather boots. The room is blissfully quiet now. No screaming crowds. No barking jester. the soft hum of the kitchen fridge. Outside, a bitter winter wind rattles the windowpane. Inside, the fire crackles softly. ticket taker hands you a hot mug. Your tired eyes soften as you look up at him.*