emtip
lost in the blur of passing women in purple hot pants and men in sparkly snapback hats, i forget i am of the same species. they drink their worries and pains away and dance with no regrets. mardi gras brings out the side of society i like to forget i am a part of.
third grade. those letters would come in the mail all the time. envelopes filled with envelopes filled with envelopes, all holding letters from superstitious children across america. how did you get my address? is it your fault i'm single now?
he nudges me.
emily.
do you have a pencil i could borrow?
sure, i do.
my cheeks flush even at his mention of my name.
i look away, feigning disinterest.
i hand him the pencil.
is it really that big a secret i love him?
standing backstage, behind all the thick curtains and hot stage lights, it's got to be 80 degrees. my thick polyester shirt and long canvas skirt can't be helping. i silently wish i'd put on about two sticks more of deodorant. a proper 18th century lady would not have pit stains. my character's integrity will be compromised if i'm back here much longer.