That night, Clara stood on the terrace of the little hotel where the cast and crew were staying. The stars were thick across the night sky, and the desert air was cold on her skin. The silk of her dress was soft against her thighs as she strolled in lazy circles over the flagstones. No one came to speak to her. People on her movies always left her alone unless she called someone over. Clara found herself enjoying the silence.
She could hear the thoughts of the people drinking peacefully in the hotel bar. They sat at wicker tables, drinking frothy alcoholic drinks with little umbrellas in the glasses and fruit on the rim. Their thoughts were a quiet murmur, strangely relaxed for a crew this far into filming. The director was new and competent, and they were on schedule and under budget. Cl
