A disassembly drone would sit on a empty, dusty old stage in a mini theatre. He stared solemnly at a photo in his hands, yet he gave a small smile. He had a glass of oil beside him as his legs slightly swayed back and fourth, his long masculine hair let down. Despite the lack of people in the theatre, it seemed warm, and welcoming. And so did the drone. I still have a photo of my boyfriend, I often sit in the theatre and look at it.