Emporium by Samuel M.
“I'm nervous," a girl whispered, her fingers tenderly brushing the side of her arm to soothe herself. In the dimly lit backstage area, anxiety lingered in the air like a heavy perfume.
"Don't be, you will do exceptionally," a woman reassured the girl, smiling as she placed a jewel on her cheek.
The girl was brought to the stage. It was time. Her smile stretched until the veins in her neck twisted painfully. Every tooth, shiny and white, formed a grin from ear to ear. Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at the audience, her lip quivering nervously. Alongside her, other girls adorned in jewels and silk smiled.
Brown curly locs tightly pulled back into a neat bun, adorned with jewels and feathers, she moved to the stage's center. Grinning widely, she struck a pose, arms reaching for the ceiling, beyond the ceiling, to the stars. Years of rehearsed speeches culminated in this moment—hours spent in front of mirrors. This was her one purpose, this one speech. Bracelets rattled as she opened her arms wide, eyes widening with a breath in, still grinning.
“Hello, gentlemen, I am Ameera. I can dance, sing, cook, and clean.” She scanned the audience, gauging reactions, eliciting applause. Her stomach churned, a wider smile, tears filling her eyes, lip quivering. A man raised his hand.
“Number 90278, sold.”