Three boxes. My choice: cardboard, tin or gold.
The studio audience scream out their advice, words that bounce around the auditorium, indistinguishable in the cacophony of sound. I read their thoughts as they dip into their meagre reserve of Shakespearean quotes. ‘All that glistens…’
Deafening me to the prattle of the host, the phrase reverberates inside me, ‘All that glistens is not…’. The sound engineer embellishes the denouement with dramatic music, as I step forward to claim my moment in the spotlight.
My hand trembles as it reaches out and points to the golden box. The room falls silent.