THE PERFECT ILLUSION

I was flying on a crystal-clear morning. The morning sun had colored the sky pink, and clouds parted delicately between my fingertips. I increased my speed and let my long hair flow behind me as my heart slowed to a steady, relaxing rhythm. There was nothing that could touch me here. Nothing could find me. My eyes closed, and a pleasant smile spread across my face.

I was not going down this time. I had found my heaven. I had discovered my tranquility.

Until...

A thousand screams ripped apart the skies as fire rained down from above. I covered my head and tried to go back on the ground, but I knew what was coming.

The dragon had attacked numerous times previously.

I dodged and rolled through the smoke, escaping molten torrents of death, until all of a sudden the beast was upon me. And it was massive! My eyes expanded into fearful saucers as I stared up in sick horror. The monster extended its jaws, as if it were smiling at me. As it was about to smite me, it split into a million pieces, like a puzzle.

Wait...what?

I forced my eyes open and squinted up at the ceiling as plaster and dust misted from above. A predicted sliding thunk jarred the rafters, causing me to moan. Mrs. Lubanski began her Zumba workout earlier than usual today. My alarm hadn't even sounded.

Then it went off.

"You're going to be late again." You are a stupid, careless girl. "You are going to be late."

Speak about the devil. It began repeating the same line over and over. I slapped the top of the clock and cursed the cosmic forces once again for putting me in this apartment. It was not simple to find affordable housing in East Hollywood. Some awful concessions have to be made. Mrs. Lubanski's early morning Zumba was only the tip of the iceberg. Then there were the bugs, the gas leaks, the police helicopters, and the general odor of urine wafting up from the pavements. But what about my reoccurring dragon dreams...?

To be honest, I had absolutely no notion how that fit in.

I shimmied out of bed and fell on the floor with an undignified thump. My industrial-grade fan-as "my personal savior," aka did I mention there was no air-conditioning?-shot all my hair back like I'd been shocked, and I was quick to angle it away with my toe as I pushed myself up to my full height and cast a dubious glance in the mirror.

This must be what they meant when they said, "trying to make it in LA." I felt like the poster girl.

Long auburn hair, pale creamy complexion, a lovely face, and a rail-thin frame. In any other town, I would be a knockout, a celebrity. But, for whatever reason, in this city founded on the parking tickets and rent traps of other small-town stars, I felt like a million bucks. And not in a nice manner.

With a familiar sigh, I leaned in to see what the damage was today. The eyes were red, but not puffy. Dark rings had already faded. Not terrible after a night of binge drinking. In contrast, what about my liver? It was best to avoid thinking about it.

There had been a lot of these nights recently, it seemed. It began as a custom between my roommate Sophia and me. Every time we didn't get a part we auditioned for (including being turned down at the casting because the coveted two-line role had been filled sometime during the six hours we were standing in line), we'd get together over a bottle of tequila and watch a Netflix marathon while we wallowed and swallowed our disappointment. It was actually pretty enjoyable. It's a lot more enjoyable than waiting hours at the castings.

Sophia's muffled retching from the bathroom let me know she wasn't having as much fun as I was.

I put on a pair of amethyst scrubs, tied my hair back into a sloppy bun, and grabbed my Chapstick as I walked out into the hall. Nimbus, our three-legged cat, staggered by me, chasing a Tasmanian twister of dust sent up by my fan. I tripped over his knobby back, causing him to yowl as I walked to the bathroom.

Sorry, Nimbus. Tell you what. "I will get you some milk."

I poured a small amount of milk onto a dish and laid it on the floor. "Am I forgiven?"

He meowed. I kissed him on the forehead and listened to him purr. He was a stray that my roommate picked up. We had no idea if he had been in an accident, but we loved him nonetheless. He may be grouchy at times, but that only made us adore him more.

After putting on my shoe, I gently knocked on the door. "You okay in there?"

I received a half-strangled gurgling noise in response. Something that sounded just like our cat. The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and I heard Sophia fall down against the opposite side of the door.

"That was the last time," she lamented. "I'm serious."

"Yep," I said, as I was expected to. "Well, I'm off to work, okay?"

"How can you even think about work at a time like this?"

I rolled my eyes, grinning. The typical response of a spoilt cul-de-sac princess.

"I love it," I replied, bitingly. "I wish I could be there all the time."

She snorted on the opposite side of the door. I could almost imagine her pressing her clammy cheek on the cool tiles on the floor. It was a comfort maneuver that both of us had performed numerous times. It was also the reason we kept the bathroom so clean.

"Was that Nimbus that wailed earlier?"

"Yep." I pulled on my other shoe. "I gotta go-I'm going to be late."

"Did you get the guy's phone number last night?" "He was hot."

I let out a big breath.

"Did you mess it up again?" she inquired.

"No. Okay, kind of. I began discussing how upset I was that Mrs. Johnson had taken such a poor turn. I suppose that was too profound for him. But I'm concerned about the woman. She's been my patient for months, and we've grown very close. She might not make it until next week. I'm really worried about her."

"Talking about death isn't the way to go when you first meet someone."

I bit my lip hard. "You're probably right."

"You work in hospice." You know these people are nearing the end. And it's wonderful that you show them so much love and support, but you must be able to let go."

"I get so attached to every single one of my patients."

"I know you do. And that is why you require an understanding man. I am going to find you the most understanding and compassionate man in all of Hollywood."

"No more blind dates."

"I promise that this one will be different. What are your thoughts? There's Damien. He still lives with his mother, but I promise he's quite lovely."

"Late," I repeated. "I'm swinging by the store on my way home-you need anything?"

"Yes. No." She shuffled against the door. "Wait-yes. Get some more of the caramel treats we had at Tony's last week. The ones shaped like a frog?

I nodded distractedly and typed on my phone. "Frogs. I get it. Okay, I've got to run." I slapped my hand against the door. "Feel better-I'll see you tonight." I was almost out when she made a faint call to me.

"Shay?"

I halted. "Yeah?"

"Put tequila on the list."

"Already there."