Suddenly, the temperature dropped. The box that Marco was carrying was labeled “fragile,” and until he took that final step up onto the porch, his foremost fear had been tripping and dropping that box. But then he saw her standing at the doorway of his new house.
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Janet’s eyes widened when she saw the four-eyed, green-antennaed, maroon-skinned biped before her that only nominally resembled one of her students. They were waiting in the wings, fifteen minutes out from the start of the next act. She could already hear people shuffling back into the auditorium from intermission, greeted by sound checks from the kids who were manning the mixing desk.
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