She collapses into the chair, grateful for the moment of solitude. She breathes in deep as she closes her eyes, then opens them again to focus on the picture of her son on her dressing room counter. 'This one's for you, buddy,' she thinks to her son. His light cocoa colored skin would forever be a reminder of what she'd lost. The angry fights, the sleepless nights, the shed of helpless tears. But that was all gone now. Only memories. What was theirs was now hers, and she'd promised herself that no harm would come to her little boy while she was around. A knock on the door pulls her from the depths of her thoughts.
"Idina? It's almost time to go on." Footsteps grow softer as the voice walks away. Idina stands, hiding the weary exhaustion and loneliness under a mask of confidence. With one last glance at the photo of her son, she shuts the door behind her to travel the steps to a place where she can disappear from herself, be someone else for a while. The stage.