“Why are we still here, Alice?”
“Merry, please,” Merry Gouldbusk requested. “Merry Gouldbusk,” she asked in full.
“Sure, um, but, er, all the cameras have left. We’re all alone. Bob Waffleburg’s already started his next production. An adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s ‘Septimius Felton.'”
“Oh we’re still being filmed.” She looked all around at the camera-less vicinity.
“Yeah, so you’ve said before.” Actor Jack Toadswallow stared over at his co-star. *Former* co-star. But lover in this reality, not little sister. True, he was observing her all the time. *He* was filming her, in a way, in a manner. With his eyes.
Something appeared in the distance, beyond the missing piece of wall, perhaps beyond the skyscraper even. Alice pointed it out.
“Look, Ingo.” Jack had given up trying to get Alice to call him by his real name any more.
“Yes, what is it dear?” He still stared, he still photographed. What she saw excited her: dilated pupils. He turned as well.
“W-what is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know Alice, er, Merry,” replies the smaller in stature lover/brother. Looks like some kind of art from my angle.”
“*Floating* art?” she exclaimed.
“Um, yes. Not attached to ground. Attached to air instead. Sky art. Perhaps even skyscraper art,” he elaborated as it then began to float into same, swallowing green, blue/yellow, and red in sharp order.