Worm

Sometimes a desire for glory turns into a hopeless obsession

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The audience applauded.

The sound of clapping hands gradually rose from the audience, like an orchestral composition, an anthem.

The man on stage gave a slight nod, placing a hand on his chest, and smiled.

“Thank you. Thank you all.”

The applause did not stop.

The man looked around, satisfied: the theater was immense, completely full, as usual, after all.

There were dozens of rows of red seats stretching all the way to the back of the hall. The theater walls were covered with golden decorations, now blackened by time, while an enormous chandelier illuminated the stage.

The man stood on a raised platform, towering above everyone, looking at the audience.

He loved that perspective.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat.

“As I have been telling you for months, no one has ever truly believed in my abilities. I have always had to prove to others how much I was worth.”

The audience applauded. They would not stop.

“They have obstructed me, criticized me, betrayed me. And yet, here I am.”