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The Audition Room
Black letters on a crisp white page. Some italicized, some bold. There's an eerie tenseness in the room, and as I look up I am greeted by numerous pairs of eyes cautiously returning my gaze. Back to the letters, beginning to blur together in my effort to focus on them, becoming nothing more than a pool of ebony ink. I've been here before. Sat in this exact chair. The only thing that changes is the paper. It becomes laughter, excitement, sadness and bravery, as I scan down the page, noting the minor punctuation and every added inscription.
My mind drifts slowly back, to the first time my hands grasped the wrinkled paper that I was given, stark against the off-white walls that were laden with dirty hand prints. I sat down, slowly easing myself onto one of the hard red folding chairs that enveloped the outside walls of the otherwise empty room. The butterflies in my stomach began to dance, as I read, with the character of the young girl slowly forming in my mind. Stubborn, yet kind. Simple, yet responsible. Determined, yet honest. She was just like me. The story progressed, showing more of her that I saw in myself. The jet black letters became my friend, and the intrigue became my worst enemy. When I took my eyes off my paper for the first time, I noticed the room, that was once full of girls, each waiting for their chance to become someone new, contained nothing. Just me. The small clock on the wall was ticking away just as soundly as before, yet the chill I received from the silence unnerved me. My feet took a while to respond to the silent message I was sending them, and when I stood, I was shaking with adrenaline. Where was everyone? I finally got up the courage to knock on the tall wooden door labeled "Disney", and was welcomed into the room with cheers and beaming smiles. The white document, now crumpled tightly into a ball in my hand, was the key. The key to my dreams.
"Hello…hello…Miss? Are you ready?" I snap back to the present, and am staring into the dark eyes of a large man in a black pinstriped suit. His clipboard has red checkmarks next to every name, except mine. Taking one last look at the perfectly proportioned pitch-black letters on the pure snow white document, I grasp the paper tightly in my clammy hands, breath in a deep breath, and follow the burly man through the door with the gold plaque… "Disney."
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