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288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
And suddenly the Wellis headquarters emerged from a gap between two buildings, glowing glassily, filling the sky with a bluish light – neon daylight in a human night. He approached it, ran a finger over its stone base. “You’re not sleeping,” he said. “You’ve got them all on a wire, hanging by your invisible strings. Funny little kites that you let flutter off on Saturdays to have their fun, but the string’s running with them the whole time, and in the middle of the fun you yank it tight, you say, “Come back!” and you reel in your dancing little kites…
And now this dress is used up, it no longer gives out any light or warmth. A shivering shoulder shimmy makes it fall to her ankles. Impersonally, she takes a step out of the snake skin of the abandoned role and into the abyss of the grand interval between acts.