He could feel the anticipation beyond the curtain. Over two thousand people seated comfortably and elegantly in the Old State House great room. The good and the great of Boston society, gathered together to listen to the words written transformed into the words spoken.
The applause appropriate as he strode onto stage to polite delight and restrained anticipation. The genuine pleasure he felt at that moment suffocating all but the most stubborn deep-seated anxieties.
Emboldened, coughing theatrically and peeking at his public surreptitiously, he began.
The words as he wrote them, sitting expectantly on the pedestal, chest height. Awaiting their glory.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
"Oh get on with it"!!
Oh shit.
Charles Dickens hated hecklers.
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