A gust of warm wind rushed in with the man from the foyer. The chandeliers rattled; dust whirled down onto the carpeted floors.
“Lily and Becky?” he asked.
“My sister couldn’t…”
“Yes, it’s you and your sister. The gig’s outside the castle. 6am to 8pm.”
In the abandoned megaphone-shaped auditorium, ghosts of opera-goers gazed at their own paint flaking off the walls. Mr. Reynolds excused himself with his best beggars-can’t-be-choosers look; rushed backstage echoing orders. Now a car horn reached Lily’s ears from outside. Becky, of course, double-parked! By the entrée des artistes – the Irony of it.
In response to: https://carrotranch.com/2019/04/11/april-11-flash-fiction-challenge/
I look at myself in the spoon I use for breakfast. Every morning, both sides. My face is normal and then upside down.
If you hold the spoon by the handle, gently, I’ve come up with this trick to make it spin non-stop: pushing it with your thumb and pulling it back with your middle finger. Let it just slide on the index. Upside down and right side up, and the face never stops changing…
Sometimes I look at my face upside down and I bend the spoon back and forward so that my forehead gets twice as big and my hairline is pulled back, or my nostrils turn into huge holes right in the middle of a face with no mouth.
I can use the lenses of sunglasses too if I’m facing the sun, but spoons are best.