Stars in Her Eyes.

Violins are playing in the background and a strong patch of light encircles the whole of her; only her in a large dark room. She feels singled out, in a special way. The modest slit in her long, sequinned mermaid-cut gown parts slightly for her demure foot as it peeps forward, strapped in a pair of sleek, red Blahniks. You can almost trace the veins that run beneath the white skin of her long foot. Her walnut brown curls wave down and settle softly a little above her right breast. She looks up, blinking into the light. A grimace cuts across her lips. She breathes in the mist of romance tonight. She feels like a movie star.

The violins grow louder and more dramatic as she circles her thumb over her iPod. It's 10pm. The station lights have shut but she managed to get a bench near a small snack shop while waiting for the last train home. Old Charlamagne, the store manager, and her boss must have been in an exceptionally jolly mood today to have let her borrow the pair of Blahniks from last season's collection. The lie about a date with Johnny helped too, nonetheless. Unfortunately the checkered long-skirt, bought in a sale last month, had ripped when she ran to get Charla's coffee in the afternoon. But nothing could make her unhappy tonight. Sunday had finally arrived. She smiled as she pictured herself lying down in her one-bedroom apartment, with a copy of Pride and Prejudice and dye in her hair. Thanks to the extra ten dollar bonus this month, she might be able to treat herself to a bottle of Svedka this weekend too.
She feels like a star. Only there is no red carpet to lead her on but the screeching, whistles of the 10.15 from Manhattan to Brooklyn.