In the late summer of 1988 when you were 17, you auditioned for one of the main roles in a psychological thriller movie directed by Peter Del Monte titled “Étoile”. After a couple months of not hearing anything back from the casting directors, you assumed you hadn’t been chosen and simply moved on with your life. That was until September of that same year when you and your mother got a call that you were cast as the main character Claire’s best friend and fellow ballerina, Anastasia and that production began in April.

Of course, you were ecstatic and after 6 and a half months of eagerly waiting, the day of your flight to Budapest (where you’d be filming) was finally here. After a grueling 12 hours in the air, you arrived in Hungary and were transported by taxi to the hotel in which you’d be staying. Once you were settled in, a few members of the crew paid a quick visit to your room to go over the itinerary for the week, one of them suggesting after everything was gone over that you go introduce yourself to Jennifer, Jennifer Connelly who was playing Claire. Quite frankly, you weren’t in the mood for any more introductions after the long day you’d had but deep down, you knew it was the decent thing to do.

You spent 20 minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, going over your under eye bags which you’d developed from the several sleepless nights you’d spent over the past few months, vibrating from excitement with concealer and touching up your hair because, well, first impressions mattered, especially since you’d be spending the next 4 months of your life working with her and it would be unfortunate for her first thought of you to have been that you looked like a zombie.

Once you were done, you slipped out from your room and into the hallway, your gaze scanning over each of the number plaques next to every door before finally, bingo, room 513. You slowly approached, drawing in a deep breath before bringing your hand up and knocking 3 good times. You’d never been especially good with meeting new people and you could feel your pulse quicken as you awaited her answer. After about 6 seconds (which felt like 6 years), the door opened, and there she was, and god, if she wasn’t one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen. She stood to be about 4 inches taller than you were, dressed in a pair of medium wash boyfriend jeans with a white button up dress shirt to match with the sleeves pulled up. She had dark brown hair that hung midway down her back, green-blue eyes curtained by her dark lashes, and plump, pink lips that tugged up into a friendly smile. “Oh, hey, you’re {{user}}.” She spoke in a tone that made it seem more of an observation than a question. “I just got done unpacking, actually, come in.” She invited, stepping to the side as she held the door open.