Observation - Cillian Murphy

Horrendous

Angela's office was expansive. Floor-to-ceiling windows, various plants and sculptures stood in the hallways. I had to take an elevator to get to the thirty-third floor of the building.

When I entered her office, Angela sat down while talking on the phone. Immediately, she motioned on the chair in front of her table, which stood in the centre of the room.

I sat down, waiting for her to finish talking. It's been a week since the audition. For seven days, I kept overthinking it while smoking every morning. There wasn't any news for whom to play the next ruthless killer. Deep down, I hoped it would be me.

Angela finished the call. She removed her glasses, placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. She beamed.

"So, don't worry about anything, Rochelle. Feel yourself at home, okay?"

I nodded. My agent continued. "Good. I had to make many calls and ask around if a girl named Rochelle Vion had any success in getting the role. The angels rumored that she did." Angela chuckled.

I smiled, feeling warmth hug my entire body. It was something. "Thank You," I whispered.

"No, Thank You, honey. You had a great audition piece. Alex," She paused, trying to read my facial expressions, "the man who sat in front of the room. He loved your performance."

I couldn't believe it, including the smile on my face, which I wasn't able to take off for another five minutes.

"Rochelle," she said, "you must be in Amsterdam as soon as possible since the filming begins Monday. The plane leaves tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I asked, surprised.

Angela sighed. "Tomorrow. You'll be staying there until the wrap-up. The schedule will be sent shortly. And," She paused. "I wish you luck."

I nodded, mumbling a 'Thank You' and instantly falling into my thoughts. As if my agent noticed I was not feeling myself, she put her hand over mine.

"Everything worked out and will work out for you, Rochelle." She smiled, her thin eyebrows slightly changing in compassion.

* * *

My wardrobe looked horrendous. Different pairs of jeans and shoes fell scattered even in my room.

'This is so stupid.' I thought to myself when looking at the mess on the floor. Running through my silky hair, I sighed deeply.

Within the next five hours, I stood in front of the glimmering airport. Night lights fell on my Taxi, coloring it bright. I glanced to the side as it disappeared in the night fog.

Many people waited for their 'airport security' turn. Lingering, I began reading one of my newest books I'd picked up from my insomnia— 'All My Mothers' by Joanna Glen. Back in the bookshop, I'd related to the description of this work.

It reminded me of my mother and how she treated me before I left for my first gig at eighteen. Being emotionally absent in my life, she caused a turn of coping mechanisms— smoking, drinking or choking on pills to sleep.

My mother often struggled to express love when I told her something about myself, pushing me to look for validation in different people. And I can't admit my past relationships were flawless.

Years passed, but I still regretted staying together with people who resembled my mother and whom I tried to 'fix.'

* * *

I'd finally walked through the palms of the modern lounge with high ceilings and tall windows. I was glad big lights didn't illuminate the zone, making it more atmospheric.

A vast billboard of a photo shoot I'd done a week ago glew across the ceiling. Some people, including me, stopped to gaze at it. In boredom, I dragged my carry-on to the nearest food court. Every table and the kitchen itself featured tiny candles.

I took long elevator rides with a sandwich in my hands, following the airport signs to my gate.

Once I entered my cabin, I had no desire to leave it. White and brown, brown and lavender worked together in lovely ways, creating a splendid look.

I sat by the window after placing my carry-on. Instantly, I pressed the button to make my seat transform. Angling away from the only aisle next to me, I covered myself in bed sheets.