“Five minutes to curtain, Mr. Ebbins,” the nervous stage hand called through the door. I try to breathe.

Staring at my own reflection amongst the glaring bulbs, only a few burnt out, I told myself, “You can do this. No one knows. How could they know? You can do this.”

I nervously double-checked the stage make-up. My costume was all in place. This was such a long way from Xenia, OH. And to think, only two weeks ago I was a humble farm kid who’d never seen the good side of a stage. One week later I’m faking credentials to fill in for a guy I hit with a car. How hard could it be?

“Two minutes to curtain!” came the frantic cry from the hallway. I bolted for the bathroom and barfed like I’ve never barfed before. I never should have taken those pills. To be honest, I never should have accepted a ride from that tall baritone woman with manly jawline. We all make mistakes. It’s only human.

“Curtain, people! Places!” I dab at the corners of my mouth and stagger out. The show must go on!