Then he felt himself small and helpless, her towering in her force above him.
Only the intervals, when the lights came up, hurt him expressibly.

He wanted to run anywhere, so long as it would be dark again.

In a maze, he wandered out for a drink.

Then the lights were out, and the strange, insane reality of Clara and the drama took hold of him again.
The play went on.

But he was obsessed by the desire to kiss the tiny blue vein that nestled in the bend of her arm.