Shouldn’t have been surprising. It was, after all, her afterparty, but I didn’t expect to see her there.
But there she was. Shorter than I’d imagined, yet larger than life, with a weird energy about her. I’d seen the concert, but in person she was somehow more vivid.
I knew she wanted privacy after a taxing performance, but I had to meet her. I steeled myself, went to where she and her entourage sat, and spoke up.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I have to ask. Is there a Lord Gaga?”
Later that evening, I ate her heart.
And her brain.