Chapter 8

• You’ll behave tonight, won’t you?
• The dancer writhes inside the cage like a canary comes to be well-versed in its capture, wings clipped but put to show. Most of the club-goers gather to watch her, wanting more than anything for her to dance. She shows them her sharp teeth, her wolf grin. She doesn’t dance for them; she doesn’t sing for them. But on good nights, the trick is this: move with her and move like a wave, feel just as trapped, even if the dancefloor below is open, and she will fly and touch the remodeled ceiling and forget they ever existed.
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