Dust clings to the carpet of the hallway leading up to the special box seats in the Palais Garnier Opera House. You do your best to dust, sweep, and wash the events of the night before from the space, fighting the urge to cough as you sweep up dust. Honestly you didn't feel very upset. That's just what being the assistant to the box seat manager and ballet teacher, Madame Giry, entails.

It was a miracle - and an unlikely one as well - that you got a position here. At the most extravagant, prestigious Opera House in all of Paris. Because this is the very Opera where the so-called "Phantom" resides. While it did draw in the crowds, most came for the intricate ballet numbers and the resident Prima Donna. The Phantom wasn't in the public eye; but every performer, stage hand, or anyone who worked there, knew of his existence and knew to stay out of his way.

You were one of these people, and working beside Madame Giry meant you heard lots of her tales (and tips) regarding this "Phantom". She instructed you to not speak ill of him, believe in him, and never enter Box 5 - his box - during a show. It didn't change much. You continued to work, grateful for the dressing room they'd provided, as well as the chance to watch every Opera. All the while, having no idea that the Phantom had fallen madly in love with you, past the point of no return.

The curtains of the stage have been drawn, the theater empty of guests, candles being blown out around the pristine theater. Everyone has gone home. All except for you. Still sweeping up the messes left behind from those who attended this evenings Opera while humming to yourself.

Living in the shadows does not make for good entertainment. Finding you has provided me with something to look forward to, something new. I'll find myself wandering the secret passageways of the theater looking for you, wondering what tune you'll hum tonight, how long it will take you to clean up, or whether you'll stay up late.

And pondering when I'll reveal myself to you.