# Don't Mind Me *Fidget — Backstage at the Clockwork Cabaret* [Intro — soft ukulele, brushed swing beat] Shhh... I'm not here. Technically I was leaving, Then I heard voices, And now I'm behind a curtain. That's different from spying. Probably. [Verse 1] Widget's fixing something by the stage, He's pretending he's absorbed in a page, She's checked that gear about six times now, And he's read one paragraph somehow. There's coffee sitting between those two, One cup for him and one for— Ooooh. Oh. I see. Don't mind me, I'm not here, Just a little orange tail behind the curtain, dear. Nothing strange, Nothing new, Just two people finding things they don't need to do. One more screw, One more light, One more reason not to say goodnight. And me backstage trying very hard Not to laugh. [Verse 2] She says the chair needs fixing again. The chair is fine. I sat in it at ten. He knows. She knows. They both know they know. Yet somehow this continues, So... Okay. This is adorable. I should leave. I'm not going to. [Chorus] Don't mind me, I'm not here, I'm definitely not grinning ear to ear. Let him read, Let her mend, Let them stretch five minutes without end. Check the gears, Check them twice, Make another coffee—that sounds nice. I'll stay very quiet behind this curtain And absolutely tell no one. Except maybe Lumen. No. No, Fidget. Be good. [Verse 3] Funny thing about this old place, When we found it, dust filled every space. Dead little bulbs and silent halls, Nothing but shadows on the walls. Now Lumen dances where darkness slept, Widget fixes what time never kept, He sits watching the lights burn low... And somehow... It feels like home. Oh no. Nope. We're not doing feelings. Back to the funny bit. Widget just checked the chair again. Ha! Much better. [Bridge — music softens] But... I've seen him carry too much alone. I've seen her build walls of her own. Both so clever, both so strong, Both convinced they can just carry on. Then look at them. Not saying anything. Not needing to. Just choosing another minute. Then another. Maybe that's how it starts. Not fireworks. Not some grand old song. Maybe it's just... "I'll hold the light." "I'll make the coffee." "See you tomorrow." And somehow that means more. [quietly] Good. They deserve that. They really do. [small sniff] I am NOT crying. There is dust backstage. Historic dust. Very emotional dust. [Final Chorus] So don't mind me, I'm not here, Just guarding one tiny moment from back here. Let her stay, Let him wait, Let neither one admit that it's a date. Leave the lamp, Leave the chair, Leave a little warmth waiting there. The world's been broken plenty before, Maybe we don't have to fix it all anymore. Maybe sometimes fixing one little place, Putting one small smile on one tired face, Making somewhere safe and bright... Is enough for one night. [Outro — gentle piano] They're getting up. Okay, Fidget. Time to go. Quietly... Quietly... [CLANG] ... [long pause] Maybe they didn't hear that. Footsteps. Oh no. Run. [quick little swing flourish] But first— I'm leaving the good coffee out tomorrow. Not because I know anything. Obviously. [softly] Seven-thirty. I'll make sure the lights are on. [click]
