The building in which they perform soaks in their failures, their jealousies, their disappointments like a sponge and holds all that misery in. That's why empaths don't go to anything above the level of spring fair performances.
The atmosphere overwhelms them. It was incredibly stupid to transfer the weight of so many years to the new place.
"Sometimes I don't understand you," he said.
"How can you be so damn pragmatic?"
I wondered what nerve I struck. Mister Smooth had suddenly turned confrontational.
"After all, there are other emotions." His tone was irate.
"Triumph, exaltation at the magnificent performance, joy."
"That's true."
We stepped into the dim lobby, lit with torches despite the presence of electric bulbs. People around us moved in a steady stream toward the double doors at the far wall. We went with the flow, passing through the doors and into the large concert hall, filled with rows of red seats.
