Thirty

Traffic these days was crazy and frustrating. I was on my way to the studio, but when I went to the bus station, I was told that the other bridge was under construction, which made an influx of cars flood our side of town.

I should have just used the train.

I tried listening to music, but I was too anxious to arrive at the studio. I was running late and needed to meet the producer before 10:00 a.m. I didn't want him to think I was lazy.

I was 15 minutes late when I arrived and hoped that Paul would not be angry.

When I got to the reception, Paul wasn't even in the studio, and I was told to wait. It was amusing; I wondered why I was bothering myself and rushing, considering he was the one who was running behind schedule.

I sat in the corner, bouncing on my toes and sneaking glances at the doorway. I hadn't seen any sign of Lisa and secretly hoped she wouldn't come around today. She didn't like me or want my progress, and her constant criticism and disrespect were not what I needed toda