Nervously, the twentysomething in the blue jeans and black combat boots steps out onto the dark stage. She never did sleep with a nightlight, but this stage is *dark.* She tucks in her white tee-shirt. Across the chest, in black typewriter print, the shirt reads "GamerGrrl" and now she wonders if she should have worn the black shirt with the words "For Their Own Redemption. To Save Their World." You just never know...
Suddenly, she's struck with a cold, bright light. That type of pale, white spotlight that they never use in theatre because it makes everyone look like a corpse (even brown grrls like this actress).
She clears her throat. Her voice is kind of deep like her mom's. (Should that be "like her dad's"?)
"There's no excuse," she begins, at first looking down. "Really there isn't." She's silent for a moment and then she frowns, shuffle-kicks one boot at nothing, and looks up, directly out over the darkness engulfing the rows and rows of chairs. "I was busy, yeah. I was swamped, sure. But you're right, I abandoned you. I left you hanging. I didn't tell you anything, you know? I just... well... disappeared into myself. Did my own thing."
Her hands come up out of the depths of her pockets and find their way to her hips. "No, I didn't get hooked up or have some fling or sink into a depression or some other asinine reason for ditching your fanbase and your friends. I just fell into my work and I didn't, you know, come out. For a while. For two months. And some extra days." Her eyes dart to the side for a moment. "Not that I was counting... or anything."
She looks down again. Then mumbles something. Then says it again more clearly, "I still don't have a Chia Pet."
And she walks off stage.
Only her very dear and loyal readers will know what the heck she's talking about.
"I'm back..."
E.J.
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