Box Five will be Left Empty


“The Phaaaaantom of the Opera is theeeere,” my dad warbled from the kitchen. “Insiiiide my miiiind.”

“That was pretty good dad,” my sister said, straightening the couch.

“Why thank you. I think I could make it on Broadway.”

“You’d be the Phantom?”

“No,”

“Oh, Raoul?”

“No.”

“Well who would you be then?”

“Christine, of course!”

My sister snorted.

“Who’d play the Phantom to your Christine, I wonder?” I asked.

“I’d be so good they wouldn’t even need a Phantom.”

“You’d be so good, you wouldn’t even need an audience.”

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