I will be sharing the first paragraph from Last Night at the Blue Angel by Rebecca Rotert.
Prologue
Naomi Hill stands center stage in a pool of light. Silver sequins teeter on the surface of the pale dress, her white arms rise like ribbons, palms facing the crowd as though to say, I can hold you all, I will. A note comes out of her--fills the room, clean, unwavering, unending--until a little vibrato appears near the end like a shiver, much the way David shivered over her in another life. Tonight is her last show at the Blue Angel and you cannot tell by looking at her just how much has gone wrong. That our life, as it was, is over. Her face says: I know exactly what I am and what I'm good at. It's this right here, right now. My voice. And your eyes on me. There is nothing else. Not anymore.
Would you be hooked?
Prologue
Naomi Hill stands center stage in a pool of light. Silver sequins teeter on the surface of the pale dress, her white arms rise like ribbons, palms facing the crowd as though to say, I can hold you all, I will. A note comes out of her--fills the room, clean, unwavering, unending--until a little vibrato appears near the end like a shiver, much the way David shivered over her in another life. Tonight is her last show at the Blue Angel and you cannot tell by looking at her just how much has gone wrong. That our life, as it was, is over. Her face says: I know exactly what I am and what I'm good at. It's this right here, right now. My voice. And your eyes on me. There is nothing else. Not anymore.
Would you be hooked?
