She wasn’t thinking about her scar or her height or the seven other girls in the waiting room. She was just there . Present. Alive.

She checked her phone. 2:47 PM. The audition was at 3:00.

She thought about the craft store. About the sound of the price gun. About her mom’s voice on the phone last night: “Are you sure, honey? LA is so… big.”

It was such a simple question. But the truth was complicated. She didn’t say: Because I was drowning in silence in Idaho. She didn’t say: Because I need to prove I’m more than the sum of my fears.

The woman with glasses leaned forward. “Renee. Why did you come to LA?”

The camera clicked again.