By: Megan Cramer

She perched in the blue-lit wings, heart beating like a full blown drum line inside of her chest. Her muscles taut and ready to pounce, she leaned forward in her chair. Her generic, second-rate costume resembled a younger sibling’s lame attempt to dress like her older sister and it scratched her skin, causing her to adjust her shirt every few seconds. She listened intently as her target pushed through each line, strained through each moment, somehow keeping on track. Vacillating between hope and dread, the understudy was forever doomed to be ready and not needed, or needed and not ready.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: