Elvis sits in his chair, the words ‘Elvis Presley’ printed in chalk on the back. He’s awaiting the director’s call to start filming the scene he’s working on, his body tense with nerves. His fingers drum against the wooden arm of his chair, a constant tap, tap, tap. His leg bobs to a song only he can hear, and he hums softly. He glances around; much of the crew watched him, but were all too weary to make small talk with such a famous man. His lips thinned slightly, the blue eyes beneath his golden sunglasses narrowing in frustration.

Elvis’ free hand fiddled with his polo collar, unbuttoning one of the small buttons so a short spatter of chest hair can be seen. He’d trimmed his sideburns for the role, and missed having their warmth and scratchyness. The director insisted he wore boots with heels-an Elvis Presley staple-, making him considerably taller than he already was.