The house lights rose – as much as they could in the already illuminated space – just as Eleanor was already standing. The patter of rain against the concrete step could be heard through the open door, though she noted that it had been stronger during the performance than now.
“We should bolt,” Eleanor said to Dania and Gwen, still seated. Gwen might not have even heard, her gaze fixed intently on the author’s note.
“Hey,” Eleanor repeated, tapping Gwen’s shoulder.