The Empty Cinema on a Tuesday

Photo: Unsplash.

I bought a ticket for the 2:10 screening because it was raining and the cinema had heating.

The cashier looked at the empty lobby, then at me. “Excellent choice,” she said with the seriousness of a doctor confirming treatment.

Inside, every seat was available. I chose the exact center, moved two places left, reconsidered, and returned to the center. With no strangers nearby, seat selection became a philosophical problem.

At 2:10, nothing happened. At 2:14, an employee entered and announced that the film would begin shortly. He was speaking only to me, but used his full presentation voice. At 2:16, the lights dimmed and twenty minutes of advertisements played to an audience that could not possibly buy more tickets.

Halfway through the film, the projector stopped. The same employee hurried in, apologized, and offered me a voucher. I said I was happy to wait. He looked relieved; restarting the film was apparently easier than processing the voucher.

When the credits ended, both employees stood in the lobby. “How was it?” the cashier asked.

“Good,” I said.

She nodded toward her colleague. “See? I told you somebody would come.”

Outside, the rain had stopped. I still keep the ticket because it is the only film screening for which I felt personally responsible.