She stands at the podium…waiting in silence until the clearing of someones throat brings her back to the pressure point. All eyes on the girl, all focus on her shortcomings and the fact she’s unprepared. The music has fallen short; magnifying her comings and goings that have propelled full steam ahead into the success of a nobody. She stands at the podium and tries to avoid eye contact, searching the matrix for some escape route but things like that don’t exist in places like this. She is quiet and time passes, awkwardly and uncomfortably. The timer stops and she removes herself from their ridicule and disdain…though they are silent…she can smell it, sense it, feel it…taste the annoyance.
They asked her to speak of what it felt like to be successful.
She’d said not a word.