[ You enter the ballroom-- In an alcove for a string quartet, the instruments sit in sad repair untuned on old chairs, with a piano against one wall, a bookcase full of sheet music. A great silver chandelier hangs above the dance floor. Near the door where you entered from the abandoned room is a small side table with a record player, and sleeves and sleeves of music.


But for all the instruments, you don't see any source of the music you hear. A waltz, soft but clear.


There's a door on each wall. ]