The lights.

The applause.

It all seems like to much.

And everything at the same time.

I stare at the audience and wonder if this is really what I want. I think back to her. I wouldn’t be here without her, but how I wish I was here with her.

When I was offered this opportunity I took it without a single thought. Until now. This was her dream not mine. She was the one to tell me to take my first audition. She said to get us there, she said she would meet me halfway. She was the one who I carpooled with to choir. She was the one who said

“Join! We can do it together! My mom will drive us. I want to do it… but not alone.”

I was the one who pressed play on the karaoke machine.

I was the one who applauded at the end of every song she performed in her basement.

I was the one who said she had the best voice I ever heard.

Our roles switched. I never thought I was a good singer. Until I tried choir. Until I auditioned. Until I took the record label.

This was her dream, not mine. This was my best friends dream, and I’ve completely forgot.

—

I look at Clara. She looks amazing on the stage. I wonder if anyone here knows our story. I wonder if she remembers.

I do.

That’s how I catch it when she starts to cry. I know her. And I’m proud. Yet I wish I could be there with her.

Amidst the roaring applause, a silent tear fell, reflecting the untold story she could never tell.