“Don’t love stories typically require a feel-good ending?”

“No, not in every case. Phantom of the Opera, The Fault in Our Stars, Me Before You, and basically everything Nicholas Sparks has ever written.”

The stage clears off leaving Joel and me alone. We walk to the front and I rest a hand on it. A tactile reminder of what is at stake. My words, my vision will be brought to life. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“Close your eyes,” he says, linking our fingers on one hand and reaching for my other on the stage.

“Why?”

“No questions. Just do.”

I snort. “Okay.”

“You asked for my help. This is me helping.”

I let my eyelids flutter shut. Sensations overwhelm me – he overwhelms me.

My skin pricks and I feel his warm breath on my cheek before he speaks.

“Tell me how you see it. Don’t try and make the words pretty just tell me everything. What do you see?”

It takes a moment for me to focus on the scene and not the way it feels to be this close to Joel. What do I see?

“They’re standing away from the crowd, the festival is in the background – lights, laughter, music – but they’re oblivious to all of it.”

“What does Hector see?”

I shift my focus, imagine myself staring down at Imelda from Hector’s point of view. “He sees a young woman that is fiery and determined. He’s drawn to her beauty and spirit, wants to write music about her and the way she makes him feel.”

“And how does she make him feel?”

“Alive,” I whisper. “Like life never really mattered until now.”

“And Imelda?”

My mouth pulls into a smile as I picture the lovable Hector. “That’s easy. Imelda is drawn to his charm. He makes her lighter and reminds her to stop and smell the roses.”

I open my eyes, feeling the magic of the extraordinary world I’ve created colliding with real life. Joel’s smile is exactly how I picture Hector’s in this first scene and if my insides match the outside, then I’m looking at him just like Imelda looked at her man.

The lights on the stage dim breaking the magic. “Looks like they’re closing up for the night.”

He drops my hands and steps back. “It’s gonna be great, Kitty.”

We gather our things and he leads me through the theater and outside.

“Thank your mom for me. The questions she answered were really helpful.”

He waves me off. “She was happy to do it.”

We’re quiet for a moment as I struggle to stop thinking about the play. I want it to be perfect. Something that I did all on my own and against all odds.

“I know you said you got the idea from your son, but what was it that inspired you to write a tragic love story? Aren’t chicks into happily ever after?”

I smile. “The scene in Coco where Imelda sings. Their story is tragic, but it’s also so beautiful to think that love can conquer anything. Even death.”