The curtain draws shut as another show ends, slipping quietly along runners well-greased.
Marionettes stripped of their costumes collapse in an exhausted heap - the time for dance is over; now they must sleep.
The crowd remains, expecting encore, but none comes. The dark material hangs, silent, facing blank stares with blank, faceless thread.
Eventually, the crowd disperses: unsure what they saw. Their confused complaints lost in muffled echoes as the last stragglers go.
The world spins on outside. No-one really watches the theatre; they watch the show.
A good place to hide? No... Just empty and hollow.