Prompt 121 (because that's what time it is): Start a short story with "she touched the little box in her pocket and smiled."
She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled coyly at a passing a policeman. Their footsteps set the tempo of the night. He tipped his hat and followed her lengthy legs with his eyes until she vanished around the corner. Neon lights reflected in the pools rain from the night prior, lighting the stage. Taxis dashed by, soft whispers of speed. Sirens screaming in the distance and she picked up the tempo, adding evermore steps between herself and 89th street. Her black boots echoed sharp clicks against the cement as she slipped down a narrow side street, listening for the impending bass line....
Ah, there is was. Four perfectly timed soft thuds reverberated through the district. Chimes of breaking glass. Enter brass section, the scraping of metal blown away from the blast. Now strings, piercing staccato screams. Despite her better judgement her hand gravitated toward her pocket, towards the little box. Now the vocals - television reports, car radios, iPods, cell phones - all joined in the harmony of confusion. Syllables without meaning, only tone - fear and confusion - clear as a bell. Like a foreign song, words were not important. Her hand twitched again, almost beyond her control. Ducking in a doorway she allowed herself a brief segue, grazing the tips of her fingers against the icy glass faces concealed within.
The moment passed. The music went on, and she resumed her pace, pulling the silvery blonde wig off and allowing her dark tresses to meet the night air. Now for the finale - what would the concert be without a smash ending? In an instant the sky was alight with color and sound. The audience roared. She smiled without turning, a mere bystander, a lover of the symphony.
GLaDOS, you suggestion in under consideration, but its proving tricky. More suggestions welcomed of course :) Also: title trivia - GO!
