So Clara keeps her celebration private, and it's probably for the best. You get the feeling that what she wants from the security guard, more than anything else, is a beating as severe as the ones administered by her lately deceased husband. It's been so long since she's known anything from the opposite sex but pain and loathing that she can no longer fathom anything more. She's thrown out everything of her husband's, save this beautiful tie with a boat on it, and her renunciation of the world is absolute. Her daughters, she says, will be her revenge: Turning into women, they are fast approaching the day when they will ruin the lives of their husbands. With these black thoughts, Clara departs.
Then there are more pagan tableaux fairies? sylphs? and then a curtain call, and then another. The audience claps loud and long, a lot of volume for this small crowd, and when it's done, people remain in their seats, wondering if the show's over. It is, though ending here seems arbitrary. If Square Peg or Assurbanipal Babilla wanted the drama to continue, to travel further into the gleeful self-mortification that serves as both Needle's goal and muse, you know they could find another egg to break. The world's full of them.