When I woke up, I thought I felt something different. I rubbed my legs against the fabric covering me and thought it was rougher than my sheets on my bed. I quickly sat bolt-upright and opened my eyes. Maybe my wish had come true! Maybe I was out of the little hellhole that was called Quinn's Life!

But, all I found was that I had somehow managed to kick my sheets off and remain under my knitted, scratchy, wool blanket. I sighed, buried my head in my hands, and stood up. Tonight was opening night and I'd have to face the cast again.

I told myself to buck up and take it. I would only have to spend six more weekends with these people. Then, I wouldn't even have to go to the closing night party if I didn't want to. With this in mind, I made my bed and went to my closet to get dressed for the day. After deciding on a pair of skinny jeans, a white tank-top, a brown suede jacket, and a pair of my favorite converses, I grabbed my car keys and headed to work.

. . . .

I hummed along with the old Beatles tune wafting from the radio as I dusted off the countertop at the Starbucks in the Albertsons in Simi Valley, California where I worked. I loved how I was positioned right in front of the giant flower fridge. The smell of flowers and coffee was always my favorite smell.

When I was little, my dad would always bring my mom coffee in bed and he'd always bring her a little bouquet of flowers when he was out particularly late. When I got older, I thought he was cheating on my mom, but he never was. He was devoted to her from the start. I always wanted a relationship like my parents'. But, I figured I'd never have one. I was just too weird.

"Excuse me; I'll have one black coffee, please." The order shocked me out of my thoughts and I looked at the person. He looked really familiar, but I couldn't place the face.

"Okay," I said, quietly. I walked to the back counter and got a cup. I turned back around and looked at him strangely. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

The guy looked at me and shook his head.

"Not that I'm aware of," he shrugged.

"Oh." I poured the coffee into his cup and snapped the lid on. Then, I walked back over to the counter. "Two-seventy-five, please," I smiled nicely.

"Man," he sighed. "These coffee prices just keep going up and up." He slid the money over the counter.

"I know," I agreed as I put his money in the register. "Thanks for coming to Starbucks. Have a great day."

"You too." And then he left. There wasn't that much to him. He had scraggly, dark-brown hair and deep-brown eyes that seemed to dive into my brain to tell exactly what I was thinking. And it was because of that very first customer of the day that I couldn't concentrate on anything else for the rest of the workday.

When my boss told me that I could go home, I quickly hung up my apron and wandered back to my car in the parking lot. And then it was time to drive to the Simi Valley Cultural Arts Center for opening night of The Producers.

. . . .

"Oh God, look who's here," Kasey MacAfee sneered as I walked into the girls' dressing room. "Sorry, Qunnie, this dressing room is for talented actresses only. We don't want any of your retro crap." The other girls tittered as I got my costume and headed into the bathroom where I would stay until my cue.

"Darn," I sighed as I saw the tear in my costume. I had a feeling I knew who the perpetrators were. I took a needle and some thread from my makeup bag and sewed up the hole. I looked at the stitching. It was very obvious compared with the other seams.

So, I took more of the thread and looped it in the eye of the needle. I had always been good with the needle, so I pulled up part of my skirt. Not only would it get rid of the tear, it would make my costume look better. Besides, I could always take the stitching out if they needed me to.

. . . .

Opening night is the greatest time for things to go wrong in a show. It's when set pieces break and props go missing. It's when your costumes get holes in them in the most embarrassing places.

It's also the time for you to be seriously injured.

"Don't think twice! Ven you got it, share it!" I belted, beckoning "Max Bialystock" and "Leo Bloom" over to the desk. They rushed over immediately. "Let the public feast upon your charms!" I leaned over the desk to do my handstand so I could go into my splits when "Max" helped me.

But when I pushed off, he wasn't ready and I went crashing to the hard floor, headfirst. My neck crunched loudly, I felt my head smash on the floor, and everything went black as the audience gasped.