otiose

every good story needs one–

the thing everyone wants,

the thing no one cne name,

the thing the plot needs to get moving.

i have been the briefcase.

i have been the microfilm,

the stolen painting,

the envelope she tucked inside her coat

before the train scene…

you know the one.

she carried me across three time zones

two bad decisions

one very cinematic argument in a parking garage

a rainstorm…obviously

the kind that makes everything look significant,

like it means something.

don’t look at me:

i never knew what I contained either

that’s the whole mechanic, actually

the MacGuffin doesn’t have to know–

it just has to glow a little

when someone opens the lid.

I was very good at that.

somewhere near the beginning of act three

her arc resolved.

she got the thing she actually needed,

which was never me

which was always the point.

credits rolled.

i watched from the prop room

next to a rubber sword

a champagne bottle made from breakaway glass

and a lamp that never worked.

The thing about being superfluous

is you don’t disappear

you just stop mattering to the story

you’re still here…

someone will need you again

for something…

and you glow a little,

just in case..