• Mira sat with her legs crossed daintily, her shoes bashfully peeking from beneath her exquisite champagne colored gown. The long elegant glass sat in her gloved hand untouched, for she was long drunk upon the gala and not the alcohol. Thousands of masked faces paraded past her, their laughter drowning out the music. And soon the giggles turned to bells, and the shouts to violins as Mira's vision blurred and her smile grew.

    Not long after, the musicians deserted their posts to serenade the maidservants. Mira's powdered wig rested on the table as her half-closed eyes gazed up and up at the painted cherubs overhead. Soon the brushstrokes began moving and swirling, and before long, Mira saw the angel-children dancing. Floating and falling and pointing at the silly drunken mortals that were sprawled beneath them.

    But a chandelier interrupted the flow of Mira's imagined Dance of the Cherubs. So she turned her heavy head to other things. To the Duke that had abandoned his Dutches for the cook. Or to the violinist who found the Countess far too lovely not to whisper to. And amidst it all the masks lay strewn about the floor. They had served their purpose long ago. The guessing game was over, everybody was far too familiar with themselves and their fellow guests. So they lay crumpled and broken and unwanted. The remnants of a glorious masquerade.

    How dreadful it must be to clean up this party Mira thought. Already guests were leaving. But there was so much more fun to be had! True, her legs couldn't carry her back onto the dance floor, but she could watch others. She could pick a mask up off the cold tiled floor and let somebody guess who she was. Besides, there was something horrid about cleaning up a gala. With every broken glass there's a feeling of loss. Imagine the fun these people had breaking the glass. Or the look on the hostesses face when she saw her precious crystal shattering.

    Soon however, the lights were dimming, and a charming young man had Mira by the arm. Leading her away from the gala, away from the bubbling champagne and serenading violinists. And back to the humdrum of everyday life.

    Back to that dreadful time in between Masquerades.