Miss Christie
It just isn't the same..."They look like ants, bustling around out there," she mutters to herself as she looks out the window, down to the city below. Turning away, she finishes getting ready for her show, the final touch will come right before entering on stage right. There's a knock at the door, "Miss Christie, you have two minutes," and I remember my first performance at age twelve. I was shaking, my face flushed pink with nervousness, my hand...