love-levitt.
There Joan was. For all that they had both done on the set of After.Life, Eila couldnât recall getting to know Joan that well. What did she know thus far? That Joan was serious, harsh even. And yet, her harshness, her seriousness with her work wasnât enough to salvage After.Life in the way that it needed. A result of them working with a script that needed a lot more editing.
The thought of this failureâs productions must have annoyed Joan as much as it frustrated Eila. Otherwise, Eila could not guess another reason for Joan to snarl at an intrusive reporter whom she sent scurrying away. Scratch that, she could guess oneâ today was just not her day.
What with most of the other seats being taken, Eila had little choice but to take the one closest to Joan. A bartender noticed her and asked her order, and Eila said pink lady and the bartender went on his way.
âMorning not treating you well?â she asked. She didnât expect much to come out, considering how private this woman was. Still, she thought it kind to ask.
        it was a brilliant concept, but the story was scrambled, the idea was there but pieces were missing, like building a house but forgetting a roof. it stood on itâs own, but something was clearly wrong. joan was proud of it, the cinematography, the actors, the crew. the vision came to life before her eyes, but it was not her vision, it was Miguelâs, it was his story, and addict brain had forgotten pieces, left them out, plucked them from thin air for last minute changes. she wanted to be proud of it.
        foul mood has director ready to bite, attention is turned toward girl, cold expression pressed firmly to her features, ready to snap agin, but when she realizes it is one of her actors, immediately older woman softens. she has a strict policy of keeping professional and personal life separate, but there are a handful of times she breaks the rules ( mind you, she never allows other people to. ) ârough week.â comes short answer. she is. . . tired. la is a mess of people and places, everything is rushed and scrambled to put together. something she, on a good day, finds comforting. it leaves her with little room to think, one big distraction.
        âare you doing alright?â she switches tracks, something softer, more motherly than she usually presents, she knows all of the actors took a hit, knew that they were all punished for it, and it was a reminder her wounded pride was not the worst of the situation.
