Backstage buzzed with that familiar pre-show energy—voices overlapping, crew moving quickly, the low hum of anticipation building as the minutes ticked down. Dressing rooms were lit and busy, everyone in their own rhythm of preparation.
Well... almost everyone.
Lori had already finished getting ready. Hair, makeup, outfit—everything set. She felt good, grounded, ready to go on. So, naturally, she'd wandered off toward catering to see what was worth grabbing before the show.
The moment she stepped into the catering area, though, something hit her.
An itch.
Not just any itch—a sharp, insistent one, right below her left shoulder blade, just beyond where she could comfortably reach. The kind that demanded attention immediately.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath, already twisting slightly, trying to reach it.
Her hand stretched back, fingers grazing fabric, but not quite the spot.
She tried again. Nothing.
A quiet groan slipped out as she shifted her shoulder, rolling it, angling her arm higher. Still nothing. The itch only seemed to sharpen in response, like it was mocking her.
By the time she reached the catering table, she was visibly struggling—subtly at first, then less so. One arm reaching back, then the other, twisting her torso in small, increasingly ridiculous attempts to get just a little closer.
Behind the table, a girl paused mid-task, watching her for a second.
"You alright?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Lori didn't even stop trying. "I'm fine," she said, almost laughing, though there was a definite edge of frustration in it. "Just—" she reached again, failing— "perfectly fine."
The girl didn't look convinced.
Lori scanned the table with one hand while the other still awkwardly reached behind her. She spotted a plastic fork, grabbed it, and without hesitation tried to use it to extend her reach.
Unfortunately—it was one of the small ones.
She tried anyway, angling it back behind her shoulder, face tightening as she attempted to scratch with it.
It barely did anything.
The girl blinked, watching the whole thing unfold. "...Do you want help?"
"No," Lori said immediately, a short laugh escaping her as she kept trying with the fork, now fully committed despite how ineffective it was. "I've got it—this is—this is working—"
It very clearly wasn't.
The girl sighed softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah... no, it's not."
Without waiting for permission this time, she stepped out from behind the table and moved quietly behind Lori.
Lori didn't notice—still focused on her losing battle with the plastic fork.
The girl took a quick glance, noting exactly where Lori had been trying to reach—left side, just below the shoulder. She slipped a small nail file out of her pocket, something she apparently carried with her, and quickly ran it along her nails, shaping them just enough. Then she tested them lightly against her own arm.
Sharp—but not too sharp.
Perfect.
Without a word, she reached out and placed her hand just below Lori's left shoulder, fingers finding the exact spot almost instantly.
And scratched.
Lori froze.
For a second, she didn't even react—then the relief hit.
"Oh—" she exhaled, the tension in her entire body dropping at once. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tipping forward slightly. "Oh my—yeah—right there."
The girl adjusted slightly, continuing in small, steady motions.
Lori let out a long, deep sigh, the kind that came from real, immediate relief. "Don't stop," she added quickly, almost pleading now, half-laughing at herself.
"I wasn't planning to," the girl replied lightly.
For a minute, Lori didn't say anything else—just stood there, eyes half-closed, completely focused on the feeling as the itch finally, finally eased.
When it faded, she let out one last breath and straightened slowly.
"Okay... wow," she said, shaking her head slightly as she turned around. "You just saved my life."
The girl smiled. "Glad I could help."
Lori didn't hesitate—she stepped forward and pulled her into a quick, warm hug. "Seriously, thank you."
"Of course," the girl said, laughing softly.
Lori pulled back. "I'm Lori, by the way."
"Emily," she replied.
"Emily," Lori repeated with a smile. "You're officially my favorite person backstage."
Right on cue, Lori's stomach growled loudly.
She blinked, then laughed. "Well—there's that."
From somewhere down the hall, a voice called out, "Three minutes to stage!"
Both of them looked up at the same time.
"Three minutes?" Lori echoed. "That's not enough time for anything real."
Emily glanced at the table, then quickly grabbed a piece of a large cookie cake sitting off to the side. She held it out to Lori. "Here. Not exactly a balanced meal, but it'll get you through."
Lori took it, smiling. "Honestly? Perfect."
"Better than going on starving," Emily added.
"Much better," Lori agreed. "Thank you—again."
She took a bite as she started backing away, already turning toward the hallway that led to the stage.
"Good luck!" Emily called after her.
Lori lifted the cookie slightly in response, still chewing. "Thanks!"
And with that, she headed off, finishing the piece as she went—just in time to take her place before stepping out under the lights.
