He stood, walked to the far wall, and pressed a hidden switch. A panel slid open, revealing a tiny theater—no, a screening room—with three rows of velvet seats. Each seat was occupied by a figure in shadow. One of them applauded, slow and deliberate.
He talked until his throat was raw. The man in the suit never blinked. The cameras whirred softly. backroomcasting brooklyn
Behind him, the red light on the camera blinked off. And in the backroom, someone started to weep. He stood, walked to the far wall, and
