Auto-pilot

A/N: They all belong to Jonathan Larson.  Please review and let me know what you think, this is a little different than my other stuff.  Tell me if it worked or if I fell flat on my face.

Auto-pilot.

Approach the desk.

Clear your throat.

Get the attention of the brunette behind the desk.

"Yeah, uh, Mark Cohen to see Alexi Darling.  We have an appointment."

"Oh right… you're late…"

"Yeah, well, you see, I was at my frie…"

"Sit down Mr. Cohen.  She'll be right with you."

Waiting.

Waiting some more.

Pick up a magazine.

Read movie reviews from last year.

Waiting.

Roger left.  Went to Santa Fe.

We fought.

"Mark's in love with his work"

What's wrong with being in love with your work?

Why would I be a starving filmmaker if I weren't in love with it?

I look around the office I wait in.

I feel the plush cushion underneath me. 

I remind myself I'm no longer starving.

"Mark hides in his work"

I don't hide.  I don't.

Really.

I turn the page of the magazine.

If I don't hide, then why am I here?

Why didn't I go with Collins and Benny?

Why didn't I just cancel this meeting and be with my friends?

"We're sending you a contract… Ker-ching Ker-ching… Sell us your soul…"

No, I didn't sell my soul…  I just…

"Mark Cohen? She's ready for you."

I follow the brunette through a maze of cubicles.

She reminds me of someone.

Mimi.

"Please don't touch me, understand I'm scared, I need to go away…"

We had her, for a few seconds.

She was going to get help.

But she ran.

The brunette points me to an office. 

A large, corner office,

Looking down at Central Park. 

The room could swallow me.

Roger's voice echoes repeatedly in my head.

"From facing his failure…"

I'm not a failure.  Look at me; look at where I am sitting.

I pick up another magazine.  I pretend to look through it.

"Facing his loneliness"

There is no one left to see my success.  

Angel is gone. 

Roger is gone.

Mimi is gone.

"Facing the fact, he lives a lie"

Success?  Do I dare call this success?

No, no, I'm not a success. 

This isn't what I wanted.

No matter how much I pretend.

I've forgotten every dream I set for myself.

"You're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive."

I'm not numb. 

That is just what I let you see.

Don't you know, Roger?  Can't you see that inside I'm screaming?

"You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from being alive."

I'm a filmmaker.  Of course I detach. I have to. 

In order to get the perfect shots, you must step away. 

Make the others forget you are there.

You must not get emotionally involved.

Or at least not let them see you get emotional.

"Mark Cohen! Glad you could finally make it!"

Stand. 

Reach out your trembling hand.

Smile.

Ignore the tear dripping down your cheek.