Sketching the stranger

​ ​Today was a tough day. I woke up tired. I stayed up late yesterday uploading my work, yet no one seemed interested in it. ​I know you are wondering who this is ranting here. My name is Elara Vance. I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm an artist. I draw for a living, but getting a job these days is hard—especially without connections. And my amazing parents? They decided to leave me in this world at the age of ten. Imagine bringing someone to this earth only to raise them for ten years. That's absurd. Yeah, well, they are dead. ​But at least they didn't leave me with a sibling—peep the dark humor. ​Growing up without anyone is tough, but I have my best friend, Clare. Her family has always taken me in as one of them. My BFF is a producer, and she’s always calling me for gigs. Today, I was headed to her studio to do some promotion for a sunscreen brand. ​The morning started with a call. ​"Hello, Clare. Did you miss me?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful. ​"No, weirdo," Clare’s voice cracked through the phone. I'm calling for a job. I know you’re just sitting there depressed in your room, so meet me in thirty minutes." ​"Okay," I sighed. ​I took a shower and threw on a cropped tee, mom jeans, and my white sneakers. I don't usually eat breakfast, so I skipped as always. ​At the studio, things weren't going much better. ​"CUT!" the director yelled. You have to show emotions, Elara ! You are too blunt for this. " ​"Okay... I will try," I muttered. ​You better do. This is the third take of a one-minute video. You need to be serious! " ​I felt like crying right there in front of the ring lights. Clare pulled me aside, whispering that it was okay and to just take some deep breaths. I resumed the shoot, and at least this time, the director seemed satisfied. ​Outside, as we were chatting afterward, Clare looked at me with concern. "Are you okay? You seemed off in there." ​"I'm okay," I said, though my voice was shaky. It’s just that I feel like I'm not good enough. My art isn't selling, I'm behind on rent, and I can't even pull through a small gig like that. ​"It's okay," Clare said, grabbing my arm. I can pay your rent until you get the money. You know I always have your back." ​"I know," I whispered, but I was tired of always relying on her for everything. I couldn't stop the tears from slipping. "By the way, don't mind the director," Clare said, squeezing my arm. " You know he is always in a bad mood after every heartbreak. " For the first time that day, I actually laughed. "It was a small laugh, but it was there. I looked over to Clare and I remember why she was my best friend."