***

She wasn't even sure if he was a good actor. In fact, she was quite sure he wasn't. Yet, every night he had a show, she'd take the bus to the little dingy theatre downtown, get a cheap seat somewhere in the back and watch him be somebody else for an hour or two through her ivory opera glass. After every show, she wrote him a letter. He usually got these letters within a day or two. The plain envelopes came accompanied by elaborate bouquets of yellow and orange flowers through the usher ladies or through the ticket office or even with the help of his sister who was a friend of her friend. The letters were very kind and contained keen analysis of his every move, and he actually relied on them heavily when learning a new role.