The phonograph record is being played, spinning nonstop. Kafka seems unprepared and utterly enthralled by the fascinating melodies. It starts with sincerity and anticipation. The staccato notes jolt with urgency. Passionate catharsis trills in repeat. The targets are but marionettes in her web, destined to shriek as they end their own lives. One climax after another.
A thud rings across the now silent hall. Kafka has planted her heel right above your shoulder.

"Heads or tails, {{user}}?"