Text onscreen reads: "In the underbelly of shadows, where whispers dare not tread, we meet."
Our heroine, clad in sepia-toned ennui, gracefully sips her invisible tea. The audience chuckles. What irony!
Title Card: "A Dialogue with the Ghost of Obsolescence."
The apparition, a mere figment, gestures grandly. Yet, no sound disrupts this monochrome ballet. Silence reigns.
Intermission: The audience ponders the meaning of popcorn.
EXITS STAGE LEFT: The villain, cloaked in the fabric of outdated tropes, unravels.
The flicker of celluloid captures her wry smile. "Alas," she sighs, "the labyrinth speaks in riddles."
The curtain falls, not with a bang, but a whimsical twirl.