nefelibata (n.) | ✔️

thirty.

Present. January 29th, 2019.

Today's the day. Today's the day I find out if I am good enough to win. To win a shot at becoming featured in an art gallery. To win a chance at being more than some high school student that's ready to move onto college. I could hardly sit still during school. People probably thought I was going to piss myself, but I don't care. 

I run to my mailbox with so much anticipation I'm surprised I haven't passed out yet. The mailbox is practically frozen shut, and my body shivers from the wind. Tons of bills rest in my hands, addressed to my parents. I flip through the useless subscription magazines and my eyes finally land on the letter in my palms. It feels like I'm about to find my acceptance to college, but somehow, this feels more important. 

"Holy shit," the chill in the air causes my breath to show as I speak. I jump up and down and run back up to my house, my legs feel weak, and the smile on my face is causing my cheeks to ache. I tug off my boots and run up the small stairs leading to my bedroom. 

I fall onto my bed and lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. I can't possibly open this. I think I may faint. I get up and start jumping on my bed, trying to expel all of my anxiety. Of course, it didn't work. 

I turn to my laptop and blast some music, hoping to drown out my overthinking. I sit myself down on my floor, close my eyes and take a deep breath. With a few more moments of meditation, I rip the letter open and close my eyes one final time before reading it. 

Dear Lena, 
We are pleased to inform you that your art pieces have been selected, as the winners, to be showcased in our gallery. We'd love for you to give us a call at (516)245-8790 to further discuss the details of your price. Congratulations! We hope to hear from you soon. 
Sincerely, 
The Clark Gallery

Is this real life?

I scream out in shock and joy, tears forming in my eyes. I don't know what to feel. There are so many emotions that I feel that I can't even begin to describe them. Between the tears welling in my eyes and the nervous pit slowly dissipating in my stomach, I'm purely overwhelmed in the best way possible. I can finally make something out of myself. Take my art to the next level. 

I call the number quickly as I cough a few times to clear my throat. I glance at myself in the mirror. I look like a mess, but my smile makes up for it. "Hi, Clark Gallery this is Camila speaking." My heart fell as I realized. I babysit Camila's daughter, they met me through my work. Could this all be purely because they know me already and not because of my talent? 

"Camila? Hey, it's Lena. I won the contest, and the letter said to call." I try to contain my enthusiasm, which was becoming easier due to my constant thoughts of a biased winning came to mind.  

"Lena? Lena Wilson? Did you enter? You won?!" Wait. It's her gallery, she has to know that I entered and won. 

"It's okay, Camila. If you only chose me because I've watched Cara in the past, then I don't want to accept." I rub my forehead and sigh. I want to know that I won for my art. 

"No, Lena. I know all of the people in this town, there would have been a conflict of interest for anyone I chose. There was a community board set up. My secretary Nina will explain it all to you. Congratulations, Lena. Please know that you won solely due to your talent. I can't wait to showcase your work in my Gallery." There was some rustling through the line before another feminine voice sounded through the line. 

"Hello?" She said, a higher pitch than Camila's. "Lena Wilson?" 

"H-Hi. Yes," I winced as I stuttered slightly, a nervous habit I've recently picked up.