Night..to the empty desolate theater, where the voice echoes and the revolving, metal, glass door rumbles as the audience exits, the quasi-critics whispering what they liked about the characters and what they would have changed about the dialogue; how the lighting of the theater could have been dimmer and the speakers could have rattled a little less. The lone janitor enters the silence, where moments before symphonic sounds of strings and brass reverberated through the now empty chairs, and aisles. Now, the only sound is the sweep, sweep of the bouncing popcorn kernels and the subtle, forced rolling of the Mike and Ikes into his dust bin then emptied into the rolling trashcan with wheels that squeak, squeak, all the way to the backdoor, where he opens it, lights his Marlboro with the click, click of the lighter; and the iron door slams shut like prison bars, locking hours of entertainment inside. And our janitor puffs, puffs a few hits of his cigarette, slings the garbage bag over his shoulder, spittle slowly forming around the ring of the cigarette in his mouth. He tosses the hefty bag into the metal, blue garbage bin, grabs his jingling keys from the carabiner hooked to his belt-loop; gets his car keys as he reaches for another Marlboro and lighter and with palms full of keys, lighter and cigarette, he lights another, puffs, puffs, starts his car and drives off to rent a movie from Redbox.