LYLA RYE

Two female voices are overheard on opposite sides of the elevator. One is that of an elderly woman while the other is much younger. Simultaneously they are telling the same stories of driving without a license, reeking havoc at clubs and of wearing a dress so tight the seam splits. The elevator is clad with a bias-cut mauve gauze reminiscent of the dress mentioned. Tears at the seam reveal a mirror showing fragments of reflection.