Entering the door I see a card taped to a wall with a hastily drawn arrow pointing left. Written on it is "audishions", and for some reason this makes me panic and reflect.
This was, as far as I could see, the magic of Christmas shoved into a wood chipper and vomited out the other side. Mulch for my own little flower-bed of childhood angst
Red raw and indignant like a wet baby, I shuffle to the front of the room. The eyes that bore into me sense my shame at simply being and taunt my every step.