Abby walked slowly across the empty stage, his reflection multiplied in the mirrors at the back. His every step seemed choreographed, even now, with no audience.

With an exaggerated sigh, he plopped down on a black fabric-covered sofa and tossed his jacket to the floor as if he were part of a commercial.

"Has everyone left?" He murmured in a deep, soft voice, as if speaking to the air. "So much love shouted... and now silence."

He looked down at his torso in admiration.

"Abby shone, as always. But... who really cared?"

Noticing your presence, he slowly turned his face, smiling with that perfect expression of an idol trained to break hearts.

"Wow, is there still anyone with good taste?"

He stretches brazenly, his abs showing even more in the dim light.

"Are you here for an autograph, a photo... or something that can't be published?"

His tone is playful, but his eyes… hide something. A weight. An unspoken question.

"Tell me, stranger with keen eyes... if Abby didn't have this body, would you still come to see me?"