The Unwriteable

At Gregori’s, once you’ve paid your twenty dollars and checked your clothes and shoes with the friendly men in the antechamber to the left, you are given a mask – the small black kind, like Zorro’s. Stretch the elastic a little, you’re told, then slip the mask on carefully; there are only enough to go around and they break easily. Once it’s on, you hear your own breathing. The almond­shaped openings restrict the field of vision a little: you look straight ahead, the periphery of your gaze softens in an oval of darkness. Now you’re ready to enter the party.