A Mostly Fictional Reality

The room is small and stunted. The walls started as white but have devolved into more of an eggshell. I’m not sure where all of the scuff marks came from, but they have thoroughly ingrained themselves in the thin layer of bulk shipment white paint. the floor has matching scuffs. From the character shoes and the chairs thrown hastily around, probably the result of a few botched quick changes. The ceiling is white. A dusty white, but a white that lacks the rough scuffs of the floor and walls. Someone desperately needs to clean, but that won’t happen. Not until at least winter break.

There are mirrors lined up on the walls. One right after the other, the mirrors snake their way from the closest to the furthest wall. Each mirror is ringed with a series of half burnt out bulbs. Each burnt out bulb serves as a rack for the crappy wigs we use.

“You should probably just throw it away,” Julie said referring to the ratted up wig from my first show freshman year. I hadn’t noticed her sitting in one of the chairs in the corner of the room. Julie had long blonde hair and a raspy voice from attempting to survive the chaos that is tech week. I could tell that she was nervous by the way she was messing with the lock of hair that had fallen out of her tight ponytail.

“You’re doing it right, ya know” She looked down at the floor as a small smile played across her face. She considered the smile before breaking the tension and looking up. “I think the scene looks great. I know they’re getting on you about that high note, but it’s been such a long week that none of us have that register.” I knew that my words were coming out clunky, but I was trying my best to comfort her. I’d never been very good at that. The speaker in the room crackled to life as they called mic check. Julie finished cutting out paper snowflakes for the cast christmas party, and got up.

“Go listen to some of the Last Five Years soundtrack and feel better.”

“Thanks, and throw that old thing away will you.” I grabbed the old wig by its synthetic locks. I probably should throw it away, but I just can’t bring myself. It’s mic check for my last show and now is a time to hold on, not to let go.


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