Stage Shades

I caught the flash of chrome resting along the flat brick cap of the low garden wall down the block. Someone had left a pair of dark wire-frame aviators behind—total backstage VIP gear waiting for someone who knows how to wear it. I scrambled up the rough red masonry, hooked my front paw beneath the temple arm, and worked the tiny hinge until it snapped open. Tipping the bridge squarely over my plush snout, I let the dark tinted glass cover my eye patch. I checked my reflection in the chrome hubcap of a parked sedan: effortless, untouchable, pure arena headliner. Tour look officially locked in.