He practically skipped down the corridor, the soles of his shoes slapping a rapid rhythm against the linoleum. He clutched the crumpled note in his hand, a giddy smile plastered on his face. He swung the door to the practice room open with a flourish, eager to surprise Sarah.
"Sarah! You wouldn't believe it!" he blurted out, his breath coming in short, happy bursts. He’d envisioned this moment all day, the culmination of weeks of planning. The scene, the reaction… all of it.
Sarah turned, her brow furrowed. "Liam? What's going on?" She looked at him with a bewildered expression. He noticed the sheet music on the piano, and suddenly, the picture in his mind began to blur.
“We… we booked the recording studio, right? For the demo?” Liam stammered, his joyous mood curdling. He’d pictured a dimly lit concert hall, the hushed anticipation of the audience, the spotlight on them. A studio? He'd felt a prickle of unease.
“The demo? Liam, we talked about that. We decided to focus on the competition. Your audition is next week!” Sarah's voice sounded firm, yet confused. His elation evaporated, replaced by a bewildering ache. He felt a sinking feeling, like he’d fallen.