The director’s eyes were green. I added it to my list: Green, brown, blue. All with the same icy glare, even the hazel eyes last week had been stripped of their warmth. I walked into the center of the room, my eyes scrambling for a spot to focus on above the director’s head. 

My footsteps seemed to echo as I came to a stop. It was audition time. I opened my mouth and let the words I had said over 20 times flow out: “Hello, my name is Ellora and I will be singing ‘On My Own.’”

I had the routine down. Wake up at least three hours before the audition, warm up, practice the song two times and then wait. Talk to someone and mindlessly stare at the wall as I try not to think about every possible outcome. 

“Good afternoon Ellora, start whenever you are ready,” the director said. Their head buried into countless audition packets. 

I snapped back to reality as the pianist started the intro. I glanced up to see her nodding along to the pulse of the music as if a small dance could change the tense mood. I turned my gaze towards the director who had looked up from her files and finally  focused on the small speck of chipped paint on the wall that I had chosen to be my scene partner. 

The verse passed by slowly, and then it was time for the end of the audition cut. The problem area. I felt the piano behind me grow louder and louder as I tried to mentally prepare. My breaths became shorter as my heart rate grew faster, my hands shook and my feet couldn’t be properly planted. My stomach was upside down and I couldn’t even hear the piano anymore, just the ringing of panic in my ears. Panic that I had already messed up too much. Panic that I wouldn’t be able to finish, that the notes would come out crumpled as if someone had stomped on them and then laughed. 

I stared at my little chip in the wall and belted. The note shook as if it was recovering from a punch to the gut, but it was there. The music slowly came to an end as I gained the courage to scan the director’s face. All I saw were green icy eyes. 

“Thank you Ellora, we’ll let you know as soon as possible,”

I nodded my head and gave my thanks to the pianist. A sinking feeling dragged me down on my way to the door. The weight on my shoulders kept crushing me as I trudged my way out of the building and onto the pavement. I pulled my bag tightly towards me, my hands clutching the handle,  and took a sip of the boiling liquid inside my water bottle.

 I waved goodbye to the lady holding the door with her daughter closely by her side. I couldn’t help but notice that the girl was holding her bag just as tightly as I was, the same steam rose from her water in little gray lines. 

I walked out, the door swinging closed behind me as I stepped on to the freshly watered grass. Pictures of those cold, icy stares flashed into my mind. I wondered why I kept looking for another audition, another chance, if I always left squeezing my bag and chugging hot water.