In The Spotlight

Firey- New Management

I think I paced a lot. And I know I messed with my hair a lot. If I didn't do anything, I would think (which was the worst possible option).

"Can I ask you a question?" asked Donut from the small kitchenette. I was caught off guard, considering he hadn't spoken much. He'd proclaimed we weren't friends and all of his many boundaries as soon as I entered the room the previous night.

"Go ahead."

"Do you ever speak?" Donut should do some self-reflection.

"Yes, but I figured you didn't want me to." This was true. I talked a lot, especially when I was nervous, but I was also a people-pleaser who didn't want to be an annoyance.

"I don't, but it's creepy as hell watching you silently fidget like that. I feel like you forgot I was even in here. It's weird, dude," he said

"You're weird." That came out too fourth-grader-ish. Donut laughed at me. Trying for a better insult, I said, "I just mean, I've never seen an author who dresses so much like an elementary school teacher. When you finish a chapter, do you give yourself a lollipop?" That one landed.

"For your information, I write picture books, asshole." That tracks.

"Huh. Are you a 'Goodnight Moon' or an 'Everybody Poops' kind of children's author?"

"As much as I'd like to say 'Goodnight Moon,' I write the silly stuff." He had a happy but faraway look. It was the face of someone passionate about his job.

"Why wish it was Goodnight Moon?" I asked him.

"It was my favorite bedtime story as a kid," he said. I began to smile. "What's with the face?"

"Well, since you just told me  about your job and your childhood-"

"We are not friends."

The address I had for the studio was a very intimidating-looking building. In a weak effort to put off going there, I grabbed a cup of coffee. This was stupid. I had so much energy already that morning that if I didn't move part of my body, I thought I would die. I had so much energy that I woke up early. I haven't done that since my school days. I had even left the hotel promptly, since I couldn't stand sitting on the bed. Not as soon as Donut, who left shortly after our book conversation.

I drank my coffee as I walked toward my looming destination. If I were a better man, I would say that I was taking in the sights and sounds of New York City. I wasn't a better man, though. All I was doing was being mad at myself for even getting involved in this mess and annoyed at 4 for being so damn vague.

On my walk of shame, I saw a smooth, round pebble on the ground. I nearly tripped over it. Something compelled me to pick it up and stash it in my pocket. The forces of nature themselves brought us together.

Or maybe it was just a rock.

My confidence was boosted thanks to the stone, and I entered the building. I looked at the directory and took the elevator to the 12th floor. That's... pretty high up.

A woman my age dressed in stylish attire was in the elevator with me. She was at the party. I had talked to her. Her name was on the tip of my tongue.

She must have recognized me, though. She turned to me and said (with the World's Fakest Smile), "How're you feeling about today?"

"I'm not sure yet, I guess," I responded. What a simple explanation of such a complicated thing. I felt like some intern in my brain knocked over the filing cabinet, keeping my emotions tidy.

~Excited: The thing I'd been waiting for was finally happening. I wanted to ease the anxious energy from sitting and waiting.

~Nervous: It was a competition. What if I did poorly? Or even get eliminated after one episode.