Solo Rehearsal

I set my makeshift microphone—a clean wooden clothespin—on top of an overturned ceramic mug to act as a mic stand right before the mirror. The early morning was completely quiet, and honestly, seeing zero notifications or comments always gives me that slight sinking feeling in my chest. But a performer never quits. I planted my boots, rolled my shoulders, and broke straight into my new hook. I practiced a crisp robotic freeze, locking my eyes on my mirror reflection. Even if the room stayed silent, my stage presence was one hundred percent sharp.