The complexity of the situation seemed to elude her

She was so anxious she wanted to crawl out of her own skin

The delicate fragrance of jasmine in the air did little to provide comfort;

For she knew what was about to come to her in haste.

She thought about the times she spent singing

Wondered why that wouldn’t have been a great vocation.

Perhaps she was a little tall to be a ballerina

But surely one can fake it long enough for one production?

She slowly grasped the coffee cup and held it to her lips

Looking around the room at all the strangers

Wondering if any of them would be interested in anything she said?

Politics suited her for a time, but it was just so difficult to even pretend

To like people enough to run for something.

When the door opens and the cool breeze enters the room, she knows that is him

Pen and paper in hand, he smiles at her as he approaches

And she finally takes that drink of coffee.

He begins asking her questions about her life

A little about her past

What she sees in her future.

Almost the nightmare of writers

Put into a spotlight

We don’t like to be in.



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