Bruni squinted her eyes to glue on the fake eyelashes that had come loose during her last performance, a task made that much harder by candlelight. The small power stations in the Western sector worked at full capacity, but they couldn’t replace the electricity that had been provided by Zschornewitz prior to the blockade. Therefore power was switched on only for two spots of two hours each, every day, rotating between the boroughs.
The cabaret had its own generator, but since fuel was running short, Herr Schuster had turned off the lights in all the rooms except for the kitchen. Even on stage, Bruni sang in a dim twilight, careful not to stumble down the platform in her high heels.
This blockade had turned out to be an awful nuisance in more ways than one, and it seemed there was no end
