The Storage Space was appalled, simply appalled, watching poor Amelia do all the work now that its beloved Karen was gone. Why even Sweater Woman, the supposed “cop” who seemed to have appointed herself Karen’s guardian angel, was currently absent.
Still…Amelia sang so sweetly while she worked. Having spent the day with Bellini, she had finally arrived at his most enchanting aria, “Casta Diva” from Norma. Even the tinny acoustics from all its corrugated metal walls resonated, a dreamy and thankfully subtle echoing as if she’d been singing in a canyon.
Until the subtle echoing of Amelia’s sweet voice suddenly turned into a perfectly dreadful clanging. Why it was that oddly dressed Pat. He’d just ripped a wall open with a crowbar! Oh no! Oh no, no, no! Not that wall! How had he known, who could have told him, that was the exact location of the old theatre’s most valuable possessions?
Karen… The only person in all these long, lonely years who had ever heard the poor, long-suffering Storage Space share its secrets. She had…she must have…betrayed it.
Amelia…racing toward the source of that horrid, horrid noise…had stopped singing. It wouldn’t have mattered. Even her magnificent voice couldn’t have reached the Storage Space now.
People. Each and every one of them. Even Amelia. Even the dead ones like Edward and most particularly that rodent Irwin. Even Bellini. Even Puccini. Even Karen… Even…her…
Nothing but a most hideous infestation that should have been exterminated immediately. None of them, not a one, should ever have been allowed to draw a single one of their breaths.
It felt a vast, unimaginable cold creep steadily over everything it had once held dear. Why revere the grand old theatre it used to be? It had only been yet another vehicle for the use of…people.
