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“The best show is the one after the curtain falls,” the man said, leaning back in his chair and raising his glass. A matching chair lay in pieces on the linoleum floor. The woman snatched her scarf from around the man’s neck and stormed out the room. The air of her departure spiraled and swept the remaining script pages off the table and onto the floor. He chuckled, brought his glass to his lips, and downed the final drops of his drink.