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09/25/11(Sun)03:38 No.29983708She's sweating bullets. She can't stop pacing back and forth, five minutes before her first big performance. For a month, she wouldn't stop talking about it, and now she's on the verge of backing out. She doesn't care if the concert is canceled, she can't do this. The dress her sister tailored for her is weighing her down, and you know you have to say something. You grab her hand and brush one of her frazzled bangs out of her eyes. It's okay, you tell her. They wouldn't have picked her for this part if she wouldn't have knocked the crowd dead. And even if she doesn't? You'll be there in the front row, basking in her glow. It'll be okay, you tell her. Because she's beautiful, she's talented, and above all else, she's her. She wraps her arms around you, ruffling her fine dress. Her face nestles into your neck as she whispers a muffled thank you. She lets go and turns her back to you, practicing her arpeggios. You hustle off to your seat, with only a few words: Knock them dead, Sweetie. |