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Cut!” Like a rubber band being snapped against a wrist, the world is brought back into focus, and the set buzzes to life around me. You’d think I’d be used to it after spending the last ten years on various movie and TV show sets, but getting lost in the world of make-believe is easier than some people think. “Bridget, that was amazing!” The director shoves his headphones off, letting them fall around his neck, then rises from his chair and crosses over to me and my costar. His eyes are big, bright, and excited as he stares down at the woman next to me. “You were flawless. The emotion . . . It was breathtaking. Heartfelt. Gut-wrenchingly perfect. Everything I was looking for. I have no notes. Just give me that same thing for the next take.” He pauses, then sucks in a deep breath before turning to me. That sheen of excitement? It’s gone, and I know I won’t like what I hear next. Just like I haven’t liked it the last eleven times he’s come over here. We’ve run this scene repeatedly, and he’s still unhappy. But then again, so am I. “Noel,” he starts, disappointment lacing each letter of my short name. Seriously, how is it possible he sounds
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