Big, rapid dispersal of singers, some of whom I won't see again until fall. Mind emptied out. It's after 11:00 pm. Matthew the Evangelist ducks into the grocery store across the street, wearing a denim jacket over his tux shirt. I walk home alone with my trench coat over my blacks; someone honks at me, a few blocks on, and it's one of our emeritus professors from work, with a carload of people he apparently brought to the concert as well: a nice surprise that I am too tired to appreciate fully.
Our annual re-auditions are this week, then it's off to WisCon for me. Must pack. I'm flying out Friday morning.