A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. Ah Cum before the day was over, slyly baiting him. I want you to be my lover. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. THAMES DARRELL.
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