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.