“ Everyone is drinking. She can feel them out there drinking, turning into beasts. ”
A waltz begins, that floating, sweet rhythm. The fiddle is plaintive. A few minutes ago she was at least pleasantly contented. Now certain of the notes dip into her like ladles and come up full of loneliness. The people in the room recede. They are strangers, every one.
~ Anna Keesey
For someone who needs refuge, a key is provided.
