A "vertical slice" of fiction.
Couch
The TV lit up the room, cutting the darkness weakly with muted beige and white. The images on the screen were static - it was paused, and it had been paused for a long time now. Eric lay on the couch, staring at the screen, not really thinking about what it was that he was watching, but thinking about what it was the actors in this scene were thinking.
A man was framed in the center of the screen. He had exited a train and was standing on a platform, throngs of people rushing past him on their way to who knows where. The man was obviously an antagonist - that was easy to tell - but what Eric really wondered about was whether the expression on the face was an expression put on by the actor, or an expression true to the actor’s character. Was it really possible that people could control their presentation and demeanor that well? Surely not… An actor had to draw from something.
Eric stared at the man’s face. The eyes were stern and vacant at the same time, the jaw was set, lips pressed together tightly. Surely this was a man who embodied at least some aspect of the villain’s character. Sure this was a man who had done things to other people. This sort of thing wasn’t just something you could pretend. You had to know.
He contemplated resuming the show for a moment, but then turned the TV off with a vocal command issued to the home assistant. The room was plunged into darkness, and with the darkness came a panicked breathing.
“Hey, chill out. If you get too excited you might hyperventilate, or cut your wrists or ankles on the ropes. HEY.”
He hated losing his cool, but this time he had really made a bad choice. Normally they have more strength, more self-control, but he was rushed into this one and didn’t have the time to do the research required.