Excerpt from Chapter 1, Art:
Little Sandy then stepped the few feet to the stage and placed her phone, an older Apple model, on a small square of carpet at the edge of the stage, just below the mic stand at the center of the stage. She then stepped back and, nodding to the emcee, gave him the signal to turn on the old iPhone’s music.
The tension in the air of the venue was thick with anticipation as the old emcee, his hands nearly trembling, took a tissue from a box hidden behind his podium and, carefully wiping the fingers of his right hand, approached the old phone. He stepped over to the device and held his index finger just above the screen. The old man seemed to take a deep breath and, with a swift movement, pressed the music play button and then staggered back into the arms of two waiting volunteers, strong, sturdy young men who had stepped out from the wings when the old man had stepped to the phone.
The entire venue held a collective breath, yet again.
Then, the little girl danced.
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