The curtains fly open on the first note. The first sequence is fast, bombastic, all loud horns and aggressive piano. The audience under the balcony hushes all at once. From on high, Odell stood alone where the spotlight didn’t yet shine, still in her statuesque pose. Lenore and Mr. Tanner vanish behind the back curtains, scurrying along a hidden walkway, leading to the smaller theatre boxes. From a box across the foyer, eye level with Odell’s balcony, they settle in to watch. Or in Lenore’s case, to conduct the performance from the shadows like a theatre phantom. Barely there, and yet, somehow, everywhere.

The chords are complex but the tempo quickly slows it all down, as the distinct sound of jazz fills the central hall. The band of musicians is under the balcony, playing their snazzy bebop song in front of the guest elevator. Only when the melody and rhythm come to an almost-harmony does Odell step into the light.

The sight of her sends the crowd into an immediate frenzy. It takes a full minute for them to simmer down. Odell doesn’t move an inch until all but the music is quiet again.

Leisurely, she unwraps her arms from her chest. With a sharp change of key to accompany her, Odell throws out her arms like a bird spreads out its wings and then, in a dramatic mezzo-soprano, she sings.

“~Evening, Foxy Lady~”

The instruments gently rumble under her voice, not quite drowning out the excited shrieks of the crowd. She sustains the ending syllable until the crowd quiets. Sauntering her way to the railing; the lights illuminate her out of the darkness. She’s tall; she’s sensuous. Keeping every eye on her, as is her purpose. She continues her song,

“~So nice to see you visit me

Out of that dusty den

Kept in lock and key~”

Odell’s eyes, lingering on the heads of the people below, drift up. The little lady meets her gaze with a simple blank stare.

The central hall is worn by time. The walls had once been made of oak, polished steel at its edges and a high barren ceiling that made sounds resonate. But time had shredded the wood and browned the metal. The ceiling had fallen in and the holes muffled the echo. In the condition it had been in back then, not even Odell’s provocative productions could distract from the grime. Luckily, with Lenore’s expertise in construction, mechanics, and metallurgy, the repairs were perfect. She had long ago repaired the wall insulation and replaced the oak with sheets of recycled brass and steel. Each plate is cut in irregular shapes and spaced a few millimetres apart. In between each plate is what appeared to be black cement. The hall looks even better than it had in its heyday. And repairs were far from the only improvement the little lady had made.

Odell smiles at Lenore knowingly.

“~Oh, I’ve been so lonely

Jewelled crown and throne,

All alone

Dusk to dawn

Long days, cold nights~”

Lenore shakes her cloak off of her shoulders, freeing her hands. She hesitates, but she quickly steels herself. No one in the crowd can see her from where they are. She, and her secrets, are safe. So she removes her mask, revealing copper-red hair and baggy hazel-brown eyes to no one who didn’t already know. Seeing her face, her real darling face, the singer’s smile becomes sweeter.

She and Lenore exchange the slightest of nods.

“~Poor me, poor me,

Alone~”

Lenore holds out her hands as if she’s about to play an invisible piano. Her fingers twitch. Behind Odell, the curtains begin to flutter. There is no wind but curtains rise from the floor, regardless. The fabric flaps in time with every tremble of Lenore’s hands as if the little lady was reaching across the room and ruffling them herself.

“~When it rains, when it pours

Dancing in the flooded streets like the ocean shores~”

The curtains flutter closer to Odell, reaching out as if to touch her. Odell steps on top of the banister. The crowd gasps as the curtain curl around her waist and forearms like snakes. Lenore waves her hands like a conductor, and the curtains copy each movement. The drapery outstretches from Odell’s back and suddenly, from the view of the audience, the singer has a vast pair of heavy blue wings. Her voice rises as the music readies for the drop. The ground seems to quiver, as she finally breaks into the chorus of the song.

“~And the sky~”

The drapes broadened.

“~Bleeds~”

The walls hum, droning like a deep drum beat.

“~Red!~”

With the first line of the chorus; with the bounce in the tempo from the band; with a scant sweeping gesture from Lenore, the room itself came to life.

Odell leaps from the balcony and the curtains, her perfectly woken wing, carry her through the air and over the heads of the cheering crowd. She flies above the audience and they, in turn, reach their arms up at her, grasping but still out of reach. The other band members sing harmoniously in the background, raising the melody from a hum to a roar. They sing under her,

“[Bleeding red!]”

Odell echoed them, her voice neither strained nor wobbly despite still being in nimble and bumpy flight.

“~Bleeding red!~”

The drapes throw her into the air, inciting shrieks from the crowd, then they catch her and she bounces like she’s on a trampoline. The musicians chant under her,

“[Blue and red!]”

The curtains unfurl, grazing and caressing down her legs, waist, and chest until her dainty feet landed on the stage under the balcony. She stands on equal footing with musicians as she finishes the chorus,

“~Oh, blue and red…~”

For a few seconds, there’s a break in the lyrics, allowing the melody to take over for a while. With Odell safely back on her feet, it gives Lenore a second to relax. Her arms ache lightly. The drapery is an extension of her right arm, every twinge conveyed a subtle command. Her left arm has a different job.

The band didn’t have a drummer. But there’s still a new sound ringing alongside the other musicians. It came not from a person, but from the room itself. Those black cement-like lines in between the metal on the walls. Underneath the cement is tiny glass tubes spreading like nerves throughout the Theatre. They’re glowing now. Reds of several shades glow from the within walls, dim in the cracks but glinting in the brass and steel plates. It’s as if they are suddenly standing inside a giant prism, alight in only the red light wavelength. Each change of light gives off a deep sound. The Theatre itself is the drums and Lenore is the drummer. Her left hand keeps the beat.

Odell grins. Her eyes flicker from the audience, up to where Lenore and Mr. Tanner are hidden, and back down to the audience again.

“~Foxy lady,

Come sit with me

Oh - Wo - Oh - Wo

Sing with me, Foxy Lady

That old forgotten song~”

As she sings, Odell waves her arms in rhythm and Lenore makes the room follow her lead. The curtains dance and the walls sing at the singer’s beck and call.

“~I’m so lonely

Oh, When the sky bleeds red

Bleeding red

I’m bleeding red

The sky bleeds red~”

The band sings after her, and the crowd joins in,

“[Blue and Red]”

Odell smirks.

“~Oh, blue and red~”

From on high, Mr. Tanner and Lenore are still watching. Although Lenore appears idle she was, in actuality, heavily engaged. The audience only sees Odell. Odell soaring in the curtains and controlling the lights. They hear the drumbeat and somehow know in their minds that it had to be coming from her.

They would be wrong.

Lenore is as much a part of this performance as Odell is and she had all the control over the enchanted elements. But the audience didn’t need to know that. Lenore didn’t want them to. They were meant to see Odell. Only Odell. The singer is Lenore’s greatest mask.

Every once in a while, Mr. Tanner looks away from the stage and back at Lenore. Studying where her gaze lands. How Lenore’s eyes rarely stray from Lady Averill.

“~Because life is bad

The stink of hash without the high;

A one-night stand and an awkward goodbye

While the sky bleeds red [Bleeding red]

And I’m going mad [We’ve all gone mad]

And if you don’t come through [Come through…]

I’ll go dancing alone~”

Odell finishes the chorus and dramatically points at the saxophone player, named Mitchell. She exclaims, “Play it, Mitch!”

Mitch prances out from under the balcony’s shadow. Backed up by the other musicians, he plays his sole. The music is erratic, each section fragmented, jarring the audience with every note. It kept them on their toes, excited for more. They improvise for a good few minutes as Odell dances around them. She dances like this is the best moment of her life, as if nothing could ever get better than this.

Lenore scrutinizes with thoughtful eyes. She doesn’t observe with the same thinly veiled desire that the audience did. For once, there was actually a certain sort of tenderness on her face. The warmth of her expression doesn’t go unnoticed by Mr. Tanner.

“She is quite the performer.” He grumbles.

Lenore blinks and appears to shake herself out of something. She answers, voice snappy “Indeed.”

The saxophone solo comes to a close and Odell takes her place back under the spotlight.

“~I’m a prisoner of war

The world’s not blue anymore~”

Odell flicks her wrists and Lenore directs the curtains to scop the singer up, lifting her back onto the balcony landing.

“~Harsh days don’t stop irking [Irking]

Yet we keep on working [Working]

Burned out [Burned out]

Burned out [Burned out]

But when it falls, It will storms

Cause the sky’s not blue anymore~”

The drumbeat rumbles as the lights go out and the curtains fall still. Odell’s eye flicker to Lenore. There is a tiny quirk on the little lady’s lips. An almost-there smile.

“~Foxy lady under the red sky

Baby don’t leave me~”

Odell reaches her arm out towards her, fingers outstretched and waiting to be clasped even though the distance between them is too great. Lenore narrows her eyes slightly.

“~Foxy lady

Under the red sky

The Bleeding sky

Bleeding sky

Bleeding red

I’m Bleeding...~”

Lenore’s hand twitches. She doesn’t reach out but her fingers do flex in the singer’s direction. That’s enough for Odell. She smiles brightly as she belts out the last line, long and proud, the band and the audience singing with her.

“~Red!~”

And with that, the instruments play their final cords. The audience cheers as the performance come to a close and the performers take their final bows. The band then starts to play another, much calmer song. It’s like elevator music with its simple progression and repeats. They moved to the side, allowing the crowd to pile into the elevator. Odell is smiling and waving from the balcony like a crown princess to her adoring subjects.

“Thank you! Thank you! You have been a most wonderful audience!” Odell calls, “I hope you’ve enjoyed our little show but the fun’s not over yet! Please enjoy the rest of what our little Theatre has to offer and have a lovely night!”

With that, the drapery close around the balcony with a graceful sweep and the people, once again loud and rowdy, leave through the elevator. After everyone had left, the curtains lower Odell from the balcony so she can thank her band. They laugh and joke with her as they put their instruments away. They chatter about their next rehearsal, planning for new songs and improvements for the old ones, until she dismisses them for the night. Soon the central hall is quiet and empty.

An idle clap echoes through the hall, hidden behind the curtains of the balcony. The curtains part. Lenore’s hag mask is back on her face as she gives Odell a clearly sarcastic clap. The multi elevator is unlocked, she and Mr. Tanner are waiting by its open birdcage doors.

Odell smirks, her neck craning as she looks up at the balcony. She says, “Aw, darling, you’re too kind. Stop, you’re making me blush…”

Lenore clasps her hands together, “If there’s one thing you lack, Odell, it's shame. Nothing could make you blush.”

“Not quite nothing,” Odell hums, wicked smirk melting away into a heartfelt smile. “Well, that was fun! Now, how about a pint, shapeshifter?” She gestures for Lenore to send down the drapery again, which Lenore does with a roll of her eyes, “We could play cards in the Goldmine and grab a glass at the Absinthe, hmm?”

Once Odell’s feet touch the metal of the balcony floor, the curtain conceals them behind their dark blue fabric. She steps onto the elevator, towering above Lenore. The top of the little lady’s head only comes up to the singer’s shoulder. Mr. Tanner stands up to her chin.

“Are you not a little young to be drinking so much?” asks Mr. Tanner, the elevator doors slowly closing. It’s heading down to the second floor, The Absinthe House.

“Aren’t you?” Odell replies, looking down at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You are both young and I don’t recall that stopping either of you before,” Lenore says, sliding her hood back on.

“Eh, I drink it diluted anyway. Not like there’s anything else to drink in this city.” Odell shrugs and wraps her arms around the two of them, “Besides you look younger than either of us, Lenore. You being so dainty and all.”

“I prefer the term vertically impaired.”

~*~

Floor seven is the Theatre’s gambling room, called the Goldmine. It’s relatively smaller than the other rooms but it was still by no means tiny.

The middle of the room has a little stage for karaoke, professional and drunken alike. There are lavish couches and chairs circling the big gambling tables. Every table has a different game. There’s blackjack, poker, craps, roulette, etc. The Goldmine is lit with purple and blue spotlights, giving it a bit of a foreboding air. The room has a feeling of underworldly awe, the soft lines of red glowing dimly through the walls, making it feel like you’re betting against something wicked. Something nefarious and strange. The Goldmine is filled to the brim with guests tonight and the upper part of the room and ceiling is a fog of cigar and cigarette smoke. Odell had stopped by the Goldmine to pick up a deck of cards and some poker ships before heading upstairs to meet with Lenore.

The Absinthe House, on floor two, is the bar chamber and usually the first stop for those heading to the Goldmine.

The Absinthe and the Goldmine are also the only rooms banned to children. Anyone who wanted to smoke in the Theatre had to pay a hefty fee, so only the richest patrons stayed in the Absinthe and the Goldmine. In the far corner of the room, there’s a locked door, guarded by security and off-limits to the customers. Inside is the private library for which Lenore and Odell spent most of their time together. It’s not vast or grand in appearance but it was free of smoke, private, and relatively clean. There were a dozen shelves of books and only one sitting area of which Odell and Lenore now dwelled.

“So the compound collapsed on you again,” Odell states as she lounges on the fainting couch, airing her flute of blackberry wine. She leans on the pillows with sultry laziness.

Lenore is sitting near in creaking rocking chair reading through a book with a cup of ale on the desk behind her. She had discarded her cloak and mask on the chair beside her.

“Yes.”

“Well… that sucks doesn’t it?”

Lenore scoffs. She drops her book onto the desk, none too gently, and puts a hand to her temples.

“Yes, I am quite aware of that, thank you, Odell.”

Odell sat up a little. Lenore had turned her back to the singer. She picks up her cup; she was on her second and Odell on her eighth, draining it in one heavy gulp. Odell pushes her legs over the side of her couch and stands. She looks resigned, more out of place than most were ever allowed to see her.

She shuffled over to Lenore and wringing her hands as she stands over her.

“...There’s always next time--”

“Ha!” The sound that comes out of Lenore’s throat is too bitter and rough to be called a laugh but there is some self-deprecating humour in there. “How many times have I said that in the last fourteen fucking years?”

Lenore looks away, avoiding Odell’s pitiful gaze. What use was pity for her? It accomplishes nothing and gives way to laziness, a terribly persistent disease. Odell sighs. She sits down on the armrest of Lenore’s chair, smirking slightly when the extra weight jostles the little lady. The smirk fades quickly when Lenore raises an annoyed eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised to see Lenore dry-eyed and brooding. Hadn’t that been the reaction she’d been getting the last ten fucking years?

Odell sits quietly letting Lenore deal with whatever she needed to deal with.

“... You know...” Odell reaches over and picks up Lenore’s book. The First Edition Advisory on Natural Talents by Sigmund B. Loyd, “There are other books in this library. I mean, you’ve read this one, like, a hundred times. I bet you could recite it from memory by now.”

Lenore looks unimpressed. Her eyes squint up at Odell, “... The absolute control of the body and the mind are not exclusive to any one individual. Natural talents are a product of the self, unique to each individual--”

Odell bursts into laughter, lightly bopping Lenore on the head with her own book, “Oh, fuck off!”

Lenore’s eyes twinkle and her smile is smug, “Chapter 2, page 19. The first chapter is completely pointless. It’s just the writer bragging about all the books he’s read, all of which I’d much rather be reading instead of his self-indulgent drivel. I could write a better book on the subject with my head stuck in a blender. Better than having it up my ass like Dr. Loyd.”

“Maybe you should. Write a book, I mean, not stick your head up your ass,” Lenore breathes heavily, in that way that Odell recognizes as her trying to stifle a laugh. Odell continues, “There’s probably nobody in the world who knows more about natural talents than you. I’ll help you edit it, if an idiot like me can understand it, everyone will.”

The mirth in Lenore’s eyes goes cold. Suddenly she’s all scowls again, “And yet, everything I do still ends in failure.”

Odell frowns. She bops Lenore on the head again, a little harder this time, “Horseshit. Is our Theatre a failure? Ten giant floors, you built them all with your bare hands. Hundreds of workers and hundreds of guests every single night. Does that sound like failure to you?”

The little lady is silent, glowering at her lap.

“Lenore.” Odell takes her by the chin and forces the little lady to look at her. “If you keep talking shit about my favourite foxy lady, I’ll have to deck you.”

Lenore clicks her teeth, pushing the singer’s hand away. But, Odell saw the tiny smile she’d made blossom on the little lady’s face. The singer stands, sauntering away as Lenore pours herself another half a glass of ale. She’s more thirsty than she thought she was, how long had it been since she’d drank anything?

“What do you think went wrong with your project, Lee?” Odell sprawls back in her chair, confident that Lenore’s languishing was over for the moment.

Lenore holds her finger to her chin, thinking it over, “Hmm… The compound was reacting well until the final two ingredients, I believe.”

“So maybe a substitute or different ingredient would do then?”

“No, no. That can’t be it. Those two ingredients are imperative to the project’s ultimate purpose. It just...” Lenore stands from her chair and paces around her desk. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, if you’re so certain the ingredients themselves are fine then maybe I can look into the boy that was sent to collect them. He was new, I think. Maybe he did something wrong.”

“My instructions were very precise, Odell.”

“And yet there are still people stupid enough to mess them up. I’ll look into it.”

“All right.” Lenore stops pacing. She takes out a pack of cards and chips, dealing the cards between the two of them. “So what do you say to a game of poker? I could use a few extra coins in my purse.”

“Bloody bitch...” Odell shakes her head and cradles her cards close to her chest, “I’ll give you something all right.”

~*~

Lenore is running for a straight. She has the king and the queen, a knave and a ten of spades, all she needs is the ace. It was just when she had called for another card, and Odell had slipped an ace from her stockings, that they hear a knock on the library door.

Lenore stands from her chair, taking her cards with her. Never trust Odell not to cheat at poker. She tucks herself into a nook between the library shelves while Odell calls for the person to enter. The space is barely large enough to fit a tiny drawer or an above-average sized child. It fit Lenore perfectly.

“Miss Averill?” The person timidly takes a few steps into the library. They’re wearing a simple blouse with a pin and a vest with a matching bowtie. It was one of Odell’s band members. The pianist.

“What is it, Ime?” Odell beams at her worker, all pretty smiles and steamy eyes.

“There's a letter for the Theatre, Miss.” The worker, named Imelda, sputters under the blind of Odell’s gaze. Odell uncrosses her legs and walks up to her. As she collects the letter she searches for the name of the sender. The envelope is blank but for the intended address. There isn’t even a stamp.

“Do you know who it’s from?”

“Um, not for sure Miss but...” Ime looks nervous. “An Official delivered it”

An Official. Lenore, who had been listlessly listening, perks up instantly. She peeks out from her nook, as much as she can without being spotted. She grips her cards hard enough to nearly crumple them into a ball. Slowly, she sneaks her way between the shelves towards the door.

Odell’s holding the letter, half-frozen and stupefied. An Official had been here. In their Theatre. To deliver a letter? Hastily, she collects herself. She smiles lovingly at her worker. Her lips are pulled too far towards her left cheek and her eyes didn’t crinkle enough at the sides for it to look real. She calmly dismisses Ime and the worker scurries away.

Odell is just about to open the letter when they hear another knock. Lenore, who had just walked up beside Odell, ducks once again behind a shelf although this time she was far less tolerant of the interruption.

“Yes?” Odell calls, not bothering to look up at the door.

Mr. Tanner walks in, eyes zeroing in on the shelf Lenore is hiding behind, “It’s only me, Miss Laymon”

Lenore marches out from around the corner. She doesn’t acknowledge Mr. Tanner, her eyes are glued to the piece of parchment in Odell’s hands. Looking at her Odell had to suppress a sigh, their pleasant moment of levity had been nice while it had lasted. Odell hands the letter to Lenore, who snatches it like it’s made of solid gold. Odell faced Mr. Tanner, discontented and weary.

“What is it now?” Odell mumbles.

Mr. Tanner appears mildly confused. He gazed first at Lenore, who is gripping the letter hard enough to almost tear it. His gaze turns mildly worried when she starts to pace back and forth, dropping the cards she had been holding in the process.

“My apologies, Miss, am I interrupting something...?”

“Yeah… But I don’t think anything could make it any worse either way.” Odell’s head swivels back and forth, following Lenore’s increasingly agitated form.

“... I see. I have only come to inform you that there seems to have been a series of disturbances occurring on the lower floors. Some shadowy figure is shaking up the customers.”

“All right, I’ll deal with that soon. Thanks, Mr. Tanner.”

With the dismissal, Mr. Tanner gave a small bow, one last subtle look at Lenore, and a longer look at the letter she was holding before briskly exiting the library.

“What’s the date?”

Now Odell’s concerned expression turns confused. She takes a few hesitant steps toward the now oddly calm looking Lenore. The little lady is leaning against the desk, vacant-eyed, holding the letter lightly in her left hand. The complete shift in temperament is startling.

“What?”

“The date, Odell! What is the bloody date!?” Perhaps calm is not the right word.

“July 21st...”

A smile graces Lenore’s face at that moment. If one had thought Odell’s leering grins were unsettling, then they would be petrified by the sheer malice and ruthless intention on Lenore’s face. Even Odell flinches when it turns her way.

“It seems our most esteemed rulers are in need of some entertainment for the coming of the new year.” Lenore fumes before calming again. She looks contemplative, running her fingers roughly through her hair. “It strikes one as being too convenient to be true.”

Lenore reads the letter over again. Odell cautiously, like she was approaching a wild animal, approaches her as Lenore rifles through the drawers of her desk. By the time Odell is close enough to reach for the letter, Lenore is reading the clock on the far wall while organizing her pens and paper. The clock reads 2:28 am, making it July 22nd.

“Can I..?” Odell points to the letter, crinkled in Lenore’s fist.

“Hmm?” It was only then that Lenore seems to realize that perhaps Odell was not exactly on the same page. “Oh! Yes, yes, of course.” She shoves the letter at Odell.

Odell tries in vain to smooth out the crinkles as she studies the letter.

“In Regards to Old Quin City’s most esteemed Theater,

This is a request to Old Quin City’s Theater by the superiority of our grandiose city’s ruling family, the House of Romilly, for your appearance and commission for the upcoming New Year’s Celebratory Dinner. This dinner is a most special and once in a lifetime event to celebrate not only another year of the House of Romilly’s gracious and pristine rule over our regal city but also the fifteenth anniversary of the abolishment of the cities previous, and most heinous, governors and our new cities founding.

As an obligation to honour the benevolent sacrifices and labour we have fulfilled for the benefit of you and this city’s virtuous people, we hope you will perform your duty and accede to this requisite.

With reverence of the highest esteem and consideration,

The House of Romilly”

For a while, Odell can’t react. Lenore is yet again a tornado, moving hot-footed around the library. She picks up the book she had been reading and went through the shelves picking up books.

Atticus’s Notes on the Mind and Manipulation is swiftly plucked from the shelf, The First Edition Advisory on Natural Talents is tucked tight under her arm, and she had to reach high up to snag The Genius and Cunning of the World’s Most Notorious Dictators and Glassmaking from the Renaissance to Modern Day from the top shelves. Finally, she moves on to the loose stacks of paper beside the desk.

It’s an odd change of pace. Odell, usually so full of life and bustle seemed stuck in her place and graceless while Lenore, commonly static and cynical, was near excited in her efforts even with the absence of a smile to prove it. It is only when Lenore had slams a large stack of documents down with a reverberating slam that Odell snaps out of her stupor.

“That’s… that’s way too convenient,” Odell says as she clenched her fist around the letter, crumpling it.

“Exactly!” Lenore is now buried in books and loose papers. Looking at her Odell is reminded of an old Scrooge, sulking behind their huge pile of money. It was then that she decided that she definitely needs another drink.

“Odell, call one of the workers. I need every recent newspaper. The few print companies we still have are biased beyond compare but they may have some useful information snuck under all that pandering.” Lenore rambled on undeterred by Odell’s growing annoyance, “I shall take notes on any clues or motives and compare them with Atticus’s notes and my book on Dictators--”

“Make that five more drinks.” Odell thinks to herself.

“—The circumstances of this invitation may just be the opening we are looking for—” Lenore's voice grows bitter as she goes on, flipping through the pages and making notes with the swiftness of a wild hummingbird.

“Worse even, if they have grown suspicious of the Theatre,” She gripped her pen in two hands and nearly snapped it in half, “then this may be a trap. A ploy to make us vulnerable in their stronghold...” She looks up from her desk only to find that Odell has disappeared. She scans around the room frantically only to realize Odell has retaken her seat on the fainting couch, pouting.

“Odell, this is no time to dawdle! Tired as we both are we have to hold ourselves to a certain--”

“Can’t we go back to playing cards? You were winning...” Odell fusses as she lounged on her stomach. Her eggshell blue eyes glistened with mock tears as she lets the candlelight hit her face at the perfect angle so that they sparkle like stars. The little lady doesn’t fall for it.

Lenore scowls at her like a mother finding her child’s hand in the cookie jar. “Discipline leads to freedom, Odell”

Odell crosses her arms, scowling back at her, like a child whose hand was slapped after being found in the cookie jar. “And it ruins all the fun…”

~*~

Mr. Tanner is tired.

“But that is no reason to laze around.” He thinks as he stands outside the Theatres doors in the humid summer morning. Odell is on her balcony, giving her usual charismatic goodbyes to their customers. As he tries to peek over the heads of the crowd at her, however, he has to note a rare bit of fatigue in her frame. Her smiles are hollow, shrivelling behind a cloud of worry. What could have been in that letter...?

An old man trips on the way out, snapping Mr. Tanner out of his thoughts. Courteously, Mr. Tanner moves to steady him, getting a suspicious glance in return.

“... I am not going to pickpocket you, sir. I can assure you that.” He looks the man straight in the eye, speaking flatly as he held his arm. The old man’s eyes widened for a second until he glares and rips his arm from Mr. Tanner’s grasp. Fixing his crumpled top hat, the man sniffed and turns his nose up at the young cleaner.

“I’m sure you aren’t.” He retorts.

The rigid man walks away, and Mr. Tanner lets his eyes follow him until he was out of sight. As the man disappears on the horizon of Mr. Tanner’s vision, the cleaner allows his eyes to drift up to the long stretching structure that blocks the skyline. It’s only slightly visible over the rooftops. In reality, though, it is bigger than any other structure in the city.

The people of this city see a red-tinted sky in the morning, in the evening, and in the night. Do you think they are happy about this? About the lives they have to lead? It’s hard to say for sure. Some are bound to like it but, in most cases, they are the minority. Unfortunately for the unlucky, unsatisfied majority, there is nowhere to go. The stretch around the horizon is constant. It circles the city’s border like a snake swallowing its tail. It is not the distant hill of a horizon that the sun falls behind each night; it is the impassable concrete of the border wall. The base of the cities cage. That structure is not only the source of the red sky. It is also the source of nearly every citizens’ misery. There is no way out.

Mr. Tanner regards the wall with his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back and coat buttoned up to his chin. His skin itches in the humid morning air. His eyes are too dry and they sting the longer he stares. The sun is on its way from the east and the moon is dimming behind the clouds.

The last guest exits the Theatre and Mr. Tanner moves to close the doors to the cities only Theatre. It is already 5:15 am and work starts at eight. He must sleep while he can and, maybe then, tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe it will be an easier day.

He is so tired it made him almost numb at times. Especially now.

The cleaner spares the horizon one last squint through the doorway as it slides shut. For the first time in a while, there is a little spark on his face. Just a little fire in his eyes. His eyes burn bleakly under the harsh rays of the sun, piercing with something powerful.

Because the structure to the west, to the east, to the north, and to the south is not just a wall. It is also where they live.