On a cloudy day in a bubbly city, there is an abandoned theater dressing room.
There is a small antique table with a vanity mirror surrounded by lights. A stick of lip coloring lies on its side, its lid slowly rolling across the table. It is a rich hue, well suited to its owner, who was almost as vivacious and passionate as she was as a teenager.
Life has embittered her some, though.
She moved to this bubbly, intimidating city after dropping out of community college. She thought she had talent as an actress, and hated living with her overbearing father and condescending mother. After her fiancé broke her heart on a sun-drenched summer morning, she made the fateful decision in a fit of tearful rage. The next day, without telling anyone where’d she’d be or why she left, the vibrant girl boarded a bus and vowed to make her way without aid.
A bulb on her mirror flickers wearily before shutting down completely. The secluded room is noticeably darker.
She lived off money from old jobs long enough to find work as a waitress. It was a little stressful, but she was happy to be living on her own and answering to no one.
She went to some auditions, at first. But rejection after rejection was hurled at her by unfeeling men and women with buckets of money who didn’t need her. She became disheartened after a while.
Filled with shame and pride, she could not bring herself to crawl back to her parents, so she stayed in that bubbly, standoffish city. She made some friends at work and in the many bars she frequented. She met a good many men too, but she didn’t keep in touch with them.
A few dollars and cents rest on the old, weakened table. It is her fare for the cab home. The rates are quite steep, but she does not think the price is too high.
One slow Saturday night, a workmate invited her to a party. Her friend was the daughter of a notable society woman, and was getting engaged. Shoving the thought of her own ex-fiancé out of her mind, she managed to put aside her vicious jealousy in order to be there for her friend.
At the party, an unmarried politician seemed taken with her. He was a couple of years older than her, but his family was very wealthy. She agreed to go to dinner with him.
In the theater in that bubbly, unsympathetic city, a jacket lies listlessly over the back of a wooden chair. The wife of a senator has persuaded him to pull some strings, and she is acting at last.
She dolls out her social smiles and gracious laughter with the grace and aplomb of a professional.
The audience is appreciating a fine performance.