"Sir, please follow me," the MC says.
So we amble onwards,
towards wherever his taking me.
With the room of coats behind us,
we make way through the hallway.
Where does one buy such a long lavish carpet
so red that blood can splatter on it and
leave no trace?
Do the wealthy have an exclusive marketplace?
We reach another pair of magnificent doors
open wide.
A large courtyard filled with fancy men,
fancy women and fancy flowery
can be seen inside.
The MC enters as I wait before the entrance.
He clears his throat and says, "Please welcome our wordsmith of the night, Sir Eliud Adalwin!"
The people analyse me as I enter.
Their expressions are unchanging,
but my smile is undaunting.
My heartrate
is not confidence inspiring.