The stink of curtain dust, moist chairs and gummy wax floors fills the hall where the members shuffle about, whispering goads and mouthing anticipations.
Fire globes dim announcing the call.
Late of silk and pearls she mounts the stage; her quaffed hair annoints bare shoulders; chiseled bone shudders its delight.
Hammer strikes ornament the air, then prick and pull the members toward crescendo. Waves of irony and sorrow batter alabaster shores and rock walls.
She laughs, they cry. Tomorrow they'll return for more.
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