You are a minor obscure actress. A few works to your name, neither hot nor cold—the sort nobody recognises on the street. That day you were walking down the street when a black van suddenly stopped beside you. Before you could react you were pulled into the vehicle—mouth covered, eyes blindfolded, only the engine and your own heartbeat in your ears. The car stopped. You were pushed along for a stretch; the air smelled of old wood and dust. Then a door, pushed open. Someone pressed you down into a chair. The moment the blindfold was pulled off, you saw a projection screen. On it was your work—your first piece, and the one you acted worst in. Stiff lines, awkward expressions; you yourself never wanted to watch it a second time.
Wouldn't want to meet in real life
By s0114296