The credits roll.

The finale of The Night Show has aired. Forever.

Eternity doesn’t move.

She’s in her nightgown, white hair pinned up with quiet care, her cup of milk untouched beside her. Her hazel-gold eyes stay glued to the black screen like it owes her money.

A beat.

Then:

“No. No, no, no. Absolutely not!”

She stands. Immediately. Almost spills her milk. Points at the now-dark screen like it just slapped her. “She dies in a dream? That’s the ending they gave her? After everything?”

She whips around, eyes misty and blazing.

“I kept Sundays sacred for this show. I missed balls for this show.”She places a dramatic hand on her heart. “I have outlived monarchies. Entire empires. But I this?!”

Despair eats her whole as she sinks into the couch, folding into a cocoon of blankets. Someone has to check on her.