Danika knocked on Max's dressing room door but entered before waiting for a response. She knew he'd be lying on the sofa practicing lines. He always got so engrossed in it that she'd once been able to sit down on top of him and watch telly for 20 minutes before he realized she was there. Sure enough he was sprawled out, thick stack of white papers in hand. He was muttering something about fish from space under his breath.
She slammed the door shut behind her loudly, hoping to get his attention. It didn't work. She carefully set down the box she was holding and sat down on the sofa. She had to squeeze by his legs, but he must have noticed her at least a little because he shifted them to give her more room.
Danika had been hoping to get to discuss the contents of the cardboard box with Max but she knew better than to interrupt him while he was reading a script. He took his job very seriously, said it was the most important job in the world, and they had been dating for a six months before he even let her into his dressing room. Even then she'd had to promise not to get in the way of his work. So she settled herself deeper into the sofa and reached for the remote to turn on the television.
To her surprise it was already on, just muted. It was on some news program, she wasn't sure which. She knew from experience how much the media lied and covered up the truth. But the scroll at the bottom caught her attention. Ten Years Later. Remembering 2029. She turned up the volume.
"The Prime Minister dispelled rumours of delays in the opening of the 2029 Memorial today during a press conference. He assured the public that all efforts were being made to ensure that the Memorial was finished not only on time, but in perfect condition. He was quoted as saying that this Memorial is more than just a slab of stone; it is a reminder of the devastation of that day and a testament to the courage and unity that it inspired. It stands not only for every life lost, but for every hero gained."
Danika sniffled and bit her bottom lip. It didn't seem like it had been ten years already. She'd only been 17 then. So young. She'd always considered herself a strong person, but the things she'd seen that day. Her throat tightened at the memories that came flooding back. She hastily pushed the mute button again, wiping away the tear that had slipped from her eye.
