❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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"Don't look so afraid Lost Boy," Cleo grumbled under her breath as she dragged the arm of his hoodie through the thick crowd of seven-year-old's and their parents. She would have been more sympathetic for his rather unfortunate situation if it weren't for the fact that she was determined to get front row seats for the performance. It just really went to show that the girl could grow out of a kid but the kid could never grow out of the girl.
Shane scowled, tugging down the hoodie so that it was covering the green shirt underneath. The hoodie, however, could not hide the green trousers that clung tightly to his legs. Whilst Cleo was all up for being as obvious as possible in costume, he was not. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that there would be people here that would recognize him. Seven-year-old's or not. "There are people here," he hissed with annoyance as a boy sprinted past him on his way into the theatre.
Cleo rolled her eyes in response, tugging him into the auditorium by his sleeve. "You'll be fine. I'm sure your hoodie and sunglasses will work just fine." Shane's scowl deepened at the jab to his horrible excuse for a disguise. She only laughed and tugged him down towards the front. Being a low key theatre it didn't have allocated seats, or at least that was what Lost Boy had said.
Despite it being quite small Cleo found herself in awe of the petite theatre. It seemed that it had once been a large house. Evidence of this was in the two large staircases reaching up towards a Roman looking balcony that was dressed up for the occasion with a net of stars weaved in between the pillars. Looking up she could see that the same net of stars was hanging from the ceiling, glowing white in the dim light that surrounded the auditorium.
Her trainers padded on the marble floor, confirming her suspicion that this must have been a house of some sort at one point.
If she closed her eyes for a second she knew that her mind would conjure up all the possibilities. Of balls lit by candlelight. Of feasts only dined by the noble. Of ladies in ballgowns swirling across the floor in elegant sweeps, lead by their men who were disguised as penguins in their lavish attire.
"How about here?" In the midst of her daydreams, she had not noticed that they had arrived at their destination. "I figured that someone who saves lives for a living deserved front row."
