In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

the gurney/counter top, pondering her approach with the super in
scene two, act one.
Ramón Rodriguez, the gaunt, taciturn Cuban who hired by the
faceless owners of the building, was already on his knees over the torn
lock, a cigarette dangling from his thin lips. He squinted up at Ula
through the smoke.
"Man, this is bad, real bad. I think have to put in new door!
What you have in here someone want so much? It takes an angry man
to do this. Boyfriend want back the diamonds? I thought he was rolling
in the dough."
Ula rearranged that stray curl and blinking through her smeared
eyes, sailed over to Ramón's side.
"C'mon Ramón, you know I'm just a starving artist or I
wouldn't be living in a dump like this, would I?"
La Nova had him wrapped around her skinny finger a lot
tighter than the flashy rock that flopped around on it as she rearranged
her matted hairdo. There would be a new door within a day, but Penny
did not look forward to spending the night with this flake, so she
slipped out the door leaving the two of them to sort it out.
Back in her studio, she settled back into the chair, put on the
trodes and dove back in. The softest of E.L.F. waves surged up from
the deep, just enough to spook the senses. She breathed slowly and
evenly, listening to her composition. Suspended in Alpha waves, she let
the difference tones take possession of her and do their unpredictable
sorcery.
As long as she didn't pass out, like at the first rehearsal, she
would go on with her explorations. She really had no idea what she was
doing. She knew that. But she had to find out so next time around
nobody would die. Penny thought of Stravinsky, who said "I was a
vessel, through which the Rite of Spring flowed." It may have been the
outrage of the year, but nobody dropped dead at that premiere. Had
she become a vessel for angelic, or demonic, forces? What was the fate
of the artist who opens her imagination and unwittingly creates
unimaginable things?
At the door, a gentle knocking this time. She ripped off her
headgear, and of course, it was Ula, hugging the fuzzy black thing from
the alcove.
"The door's not ready yet. I brought a sleeping bag."
She went straight to the sofa, sat down primly and began
untying the bundle.
9