Salome and Zorah scuttled down the street, past dozens of shouting market vendors. They giggled at the antics of a child and a stray dog, but dared not look up or speak until they had passed out of the main road and away from the noise of the market.
“That was fun,” Zorah said, unwinding her headscarf. “But I’m not sure it was worth the work.”
“Please,” Salome said. “You like drama even more than I do. One day we should protest our non-admittance instead of sneaking in. But really, it’s so easy to do in a dark theatre.”
Zorah shrugged. “Easy for you, anyway.”
They walked on down the deserted alley, looking up at the vandalized buildings. At the end of the alley was a perpendicular street which bustled with the decaying energy of the nearby market.
“Hey, look.” Salome pointed toward an outside staircase, above which was a red box containing a single rose. It bore words which read, “in case of love at first sight break glass”.
She scoffed. “Cute idea, I guess, but whoever stocks this thing must spend a lot of money on roses. How often would someone use it?”
Zorah gripped her arm. “I don’t know, but we might need it right now.” She gestured ahead of them, where a dashingly handsome foreigner was helping an old woman across the street. “He’s so…”
“Zorah, you’re ridiculous,” Salome said, and dragged her friend around the corner.
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