I shouted and started sprinting back downstairs. As I passed the manager’s office, there in the corner of my eye—and no time to think about it—was the orange glow of dancing flames. I burst my way into the auditorium, but Gin was gone. I started shouting out his name, little minding the movie playing above me. Looking up and down the aisles, I kept calling:
“Gin! Gin! This isn’t funny. Come on out!”
I don’t know when the firemen burst in, but as they dragged me out of that burning building, I gazed up into the silver screen.
Tale Told 