"Ladies and gentlemen. Dancers and dreamers. Things that still have pulses and things that used to."
[The broom scrapes. A wet sound. Something being pushed across the floor.]
"We're going to take a brief intermission. The orchestra needs to retune. The floor needs to be resurfaced. The bodies… need to be relocated."
[A soft, apologetic laugh.]
"Don't worry. They knew the risks. They signed the waivers. Well. Most of them. The ones who didn't… well. They learned. That's the point of the dance, isn't it? Learning."
---
[Footsteps. A bucket being dragged. Water sloshing.]
"You ever clean blood off a floor? Ever watch it swirl in the water? Pink. Almost pretty. Like a sunset. Like a promise that the night isn't over."
[The broom scrapes again. Slower.]
"The tango left a mess. The polka was worse. The waltz… the waltz was elegant. Almost tidy. Almost polite. That's the thing about the waltz. It knows how to say goodbye."
---
[The stage light flickers. A distant cough from the audience.]
"The audience is getting restless. I can feel it. The shifting in the seats. The whispered questions. 'When will the music start again? When will the dancing resume? When will I get my turn?'"
[A pause. A soft, knowing smile in his voice.]
"Soon. Soon. The floor is almost clean. The orchestra is almost ready. The bodies are almost gone."
[Water sloshing. A rag wringing out.]
"But here's the thing about the intermission. The thing they don't tell you. The dance doesn't stop. It just… changes tempo. The music is still playing. Can't you hear it?"
[Silence. Then, faint, distant, a single violin note.]
"There. There it is. The next dance. The next lesson. The next chance to lose yourself on the floor."
[The broom stops. Silence.]
"The intermission is over. Take your seats. Take your partners. Take a deep breath. You're going to need it."
[A long pause. A soft laugh.]
"Cleanup on aisle six. Cleanup on aisle everywhere. Now. Shall we continue?"
[Silence. A single, dramatic chord. Fade.]
AsheTheHyena
