The dressing room was smaller than I expected.
Rows of mirrors lined one wall. Bright bulbs framed the glass, exposing every flaw, every dark circle, and every sleepless night. Makeup containers cluttered the counters. Half-finished drinks sat beside purses and hairbrushes. The room felt lived in, but not loved. It reminded me of an old apartment building that had seen too many tenants come and go over the years. Nothing about the room felt permanent. Nothing about it felt hopeful. It felt like a place people passed through while trying to survive another day. Standing in the doorway with my bag hanging from my shoulder, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was looking at a future I had never imagined for myself. The thought settled heavily in my chest before I even took my first step insi
