Lizzy can feel her world tilting on its axis. Her first reliable boyfriend since settling in Las Vegas has gone MIA. Her cat without a tail that has stuck by her since her days in Cleveland, has a terrible kidney infection. From all indications, meaning the buzz on the Internet, this infection in cats signals the beginning of the end. As the elevator descends to the counting floors below the faux canals at The Venetian, where unemployed theater majors in ornate costumes serenade the suckers, a dull sense of what can only be described as ennui settles over Lizzy like a thick sauce. She separates the change from the bills. Feeds the quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies into a sorter all the while toying with exactly how she can smuggle out enough cash to shift her life into a higher gear. One that will no doubt be more thrilling than today. One where her fading good looks will still pass for true beauty.