“I want to press on,” you say. They sigh dramatically, but move the rack of clothing aside – you hadn’t realized it was on wheels before. There’s a wall of silver behind it – you realize that it’s an elevator door. There’s no buttons to call it, just an escutcheon for your key.
“Where does it go?” you ask.
“Onward,” says the third of them, while the other two are quiet. “After this point, you can’t go back again. There’s not enough time.”
Which was what you were afraid of. You look at the masks, carefully rehung on the wall, and feel the weight of the rich robe you’re in, and your body remembers all the hands that have touched it tonight, the places they’ve reached, the pleasures you’ve had. You’re not ready to give all that up just yet.
And…yet…you still want to know what’s waiting fo
