> Ask where I am

You stand up and look behind you to see Alexi, but the theater is empty. There’s a mezzanine and a balcony where he could be watching the performance, but you can’t see into them from your seat square in the middle of the orchestra seating. It’s a large, dingy place with peeling wallpaper and shatter glass wall sconces. There are box seats on either side of the stage, with shredded curtains hanging behind them.

“Hello?” you ask quietly.

No response.

“Where am I?” you say, attempting to project your voice out into the balcony.

“Yes, now I can truly hear you. And I know that you are here. And that, my friend, is where you are. You are here.”

“Where is here?”

“The theater, of course. The only one in town.”

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