a quick glance for her mother inside, she found her still up on stage. With a roll of her eyes, Eleanor tapped the boy on the leg, and then pointed toward her mother on stage. He opened his mouth but she held up a hand to stop him. Standing up, she grabbed her golden pin, held before her, imitating a mic,
and proceeded to sing. Pressure began to build up in her eyes, misty as she
saw his face light up with hope and then frown as no sound emitted from her throat. Lowering the pin she pointed to her ear and shook her head. Muscles tense, she watched as understanding dawned on him, her hand held the pin till her knuckles turned white as he turned his back, picked up his jacket and
left. Her body shook and her heart felt like it was being stabbed and torn at, her stomach clenched as she shook, holding back her emotions.
The house shook, bursts of colorful lights lit up the hall sporadically. Raising her arm clutching the pin, she threw it to the ground. Storming toward her
heels, she slipped one on, lifted it above the emerald gem, as the light be-
hind her flared brilliantly, her face twisted in rage, teeth bared, eyes red, she slammed her heel into the stone, breaking it into millions of pieces. The hall once more bathed in shadow.
untitled, Richard Schilk
It was just another celebration of disappointments.
The Macomb Community College journal of student words and images.