8 04 2009

I could feel my pulse picking up.  I pressed my hands hard into the cold linoleum floor on which I sat, back to the cinderblocks.  All that mirror-pep-talk from 15 minutes ago, side effects wore off the moment I set foot in the building.  I stare blankly at the open pages of Speak in front of me.  I read the same sentence three times and comprehend nothing.  I close the book.  In front of me sits another girl waiting; she texts feverishly.  I wonder absentmindedly if she’s textually freaking out to a friend.  My phone is dead in my bag.

The girl next to me strikes up a conversation.  She complains about them running late and how she has to get to her acting troupe downtown.  She flashes me  her page long resumé.  I offer her a weak, unconvincing smile.  My mind zooms to tear her down in every possible way.  I scold myself.  You don’t know; she might be a shoe-in.  I take my book back out and pretend to read, unfocused on the black blobs of print.  Awaiting vocal doom.




One response

8 04 2009

Dear Interwebz,
Marion has one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard. She has the voice of an angel.

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