She Sits on the Cliff’s Edge
She sits on the cliff’s edge, gazing down at the roaring waves below her. Twilight is creeping its blue shadows over the land. The mansion pulses with the joyful clamor of party guests and the bubbly sound of ragtime music traveling on the cool sea-breeze. The ink on the Treaty of Versailles is still wet, but the revelry has already begun.
As night cloaks the radiant mansion, and the champagne flows, and the band plays, and the crowd cheers, she disappears into the dark abyss, hoping to find him who never returned.
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