The screen flickered to life, revealing an eerie underwater graveyard filled with rusted metal and shattered dreams.
The camera glided past a broken chandelier, its crystals still clinging on for dear life, and a child's doll half-buried in silt.
Finally, it settled on the ship's name barely legible on the decaying hull: TITANIC.
A collective gasp rippled through the theater.
"Goodness," muttered a bearded man in a flannel shirt, gripping his date's hand tightly. "Is that an actual wreck?"
His girlfriend wiped her suddenly clammy palms on her jeans. "They must've used those special underwater cameras. Look how clear it is!"
Next to them, Ophelia sat unnaturally still, her violet eyes reflecting the ghostly images on-screen.
Her popcorn munching slowed as she became entranced by the unfolding story.
