Gone. I poked my head out, around the curtain. Not only was my towel gone, so were all my clothes. What remained were another note and a small dry was... cloth, both at the far end of the bathroom. I felt the cold slowly invade the shower. I realized I was going to have to dry off in the chilly air. Knowing I had little choice on the issue, I jumped out of the shower, grabbed the dry wash cloth and did what I could with it. After a lone shiver, I picked up the note. “Darling, I figured since I. I had, I told him, a phone call I needed to make. I did, too, though the timing wasn't really all that urgent; I needed to let Sam, my agent, in on what was happening to my operatic life.He picked up his cell quickly and sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me. He'd noticed the review of my Turandot gig and congratulated me. He also told me he was working on what a few days ago I would have thought was a real coup—Schaunard, the number two baritone in La Boheme but with a name and a few. More

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