Glaring

They should’ve been done hours ago. Her stupid heels are killing her.

The director is shaking his head as he huddles with the crew.

What would a vampire do? Sarah steps over props scattered on the floor. Impale the little grease ball to the floor with the sharp end of that broken wooden table leg.

Sarah sighs. If only.

If only her agent hadn’t called, hadn’t convinced her. If only she hadn’t listened, hadn’t needed the money, she’d be home right now, reading Zoe a bedtime story.

“Okay, just one more take. I promise!”

Sarah glares at the stubby sadist.


Picture is copyright by StudioTempura. (100 words)

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