aspect ratio

trying fiction... idk

The plush red velvet of the seat caresses her aging bones as she sits down. The curtains are still closed. Haven’t missed anything yet, she thought to herself. Her favourite part was the ads. Not just the trailers, which got her excited for future trips to the cinema, but the ads. For the local financial advisor and the retirement home and the Lexus. What do they think this audience wants to buy, she thinks. The ads remain mostly the same and she has their order memorised. Knows how much time she has to rush off to the toilet if need be. But every now and again the ads change. An ad for coffee before the Italian film or an ad for the ballet before the opera. She likes this. The routine, but also the surprise. As the lights go down, she settles further into her seat.

She knows the staff outside by name. Her coffee order is known by all, a large decaf long black, no matter what time of the day. She knows the young kids behind the coffee machine think she’s silly for ordering a decaf long black. What’s the point, they ask, surely the decaf doesn’t taste as good as the real thing. But she doesn’t care. She likes her coffee her way and those kids are good at making it. They know to never put it in a to go cup, only a mug. They deliver it to her table in the café and smile. She always asks them what films they’ve seen recently. Not all of them watch the films they’re showing, many don’t even have the time to as they balance work and university, but there’s always one or two who will give her an in-depth review of the film they saw last week. Today, one of the girls was telling her about a horror film with a creepy house and a witch. It didn’t sound like her cup of tea, but she listened dutifully anyway. She was the one who had asked the question after all.

The projector hums behind her ear as the ads start rolling. Like clockwork, the first ad plays, the one telling you to sign up for the cinema’s movie club. She had signed up years ago, the week after her 60^th birthday. It really does save her a lot of money, especially now that she doesn’t work. Thinking about all of the films she has watched since then makes her feel dizzy. To think about all of the films she has watched in her lifetime makes her feel even dizzier. What was the first film she saw at the cinema? There was that time she snuck out to meet that boy at the cinema, just so they could hold hands in the back row. She can’t even remember his name now, but back then, nothing felt more important. But surely there was a film before that. One her parents took her to, maybe. Yes, there must have been. She remembers sitting in a hot cinema on a summer’s day with ice cream running down her arms and her brother’s little legs swinging back and forth. She scolded him, told him he was being too noisy, disrupting everyone in the theatre. But what she would do now to see his little legs swinging back and forth again. Time isn’t always fair. It takes some people too early and leaves some people here too long. She thinks back to the first time she came to this particular cinema. She was with her husband then. He was never a very kind man, he was gruff with the staff, didn’t say his pleases and thank yous. She made sure to give the boy behind the counter a big smile and thank him when he handed her their tickets. She was always doing things like that, trying to make up for her husband’s cruelties. But, she remembered with a deep sigh, she didn’t have to do that anymore.

By now, she has sat through an ad for a cemetery, one for a mattress and mobility aids store and a trailer for the latest movie starring Pierce Brosnan. He sure does look good for his age. In this one, he stands out looking over the sea from the top of a cliff, probably in Ireland or Scotland or somewhere thereabouts. They really know their audience, she laughs to herself. It’s just her and another man with thinning hair in the cinema. One thing about coming to the same cinema for years is that she knows all the best seats. She knows the best place to sit for the best view in those titchy little cinemas that people love to complain about and the best seat near the speakers in the ginormous cinemas, so her aging ears can hear even the quietest of whispers from the screen. That’s the thing with movies nowadays. They really can’t get the sound right. Those big blockbusters are so loud you can feel the bass in the speakers shake your seats from the cinema below. But these indie art-house films speak in hushed tones, as if you’re only supposed to hear if you are intellectual or cool enough. What particularly annoys her is when she is sat next to someone with popcorn. Why is popcorn the snack that was chosen for cinemas, she always wonders. It’s so loud and crunchy it ruins the movie-watching experience. And even worse you almost always spill some on you as you shovel it from the box to your mouth, leaving a trail of popcorn kernels in your wake. And the poor staff have to sweep that up after every film.

She wonders what brought the man with the thinning hair to this film, to this cinema. She doesn’t recognise him, so he’s probably not a regular. Is he a horror movie fanatic or does he like a quieter drama or even, perhaps, a cheeky rom com. Did he talk to the girls at the candy bar outside, ask them what film they recommended. They’re usually pretty good at recommendations, so hopefully he likes this one. What was his coffee order or is he more of a wine drinker. It’s a bit early in the day for that. But she’s trying to stop judging people for their choices. That’s something she has learned over the years, you can’t change people, so there’s no point in trying to change them. What was the first film the man saw at the cinema, she wonders. Did he come with someone he loved or someone he hated?

She hears the click of the door closing behind them. The curtains open wider, and the aspect ratio widens. The logo of the first film studio illuminates the screen. She hopes this is one she’ll enjoy.