"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

The radio came on, some little-known rock band breaking the silence of sleep. A hand shot out from under the blanket, smacking it roughly and with will to rip it from the wall. Its owner lifted her head, pushing back a mop of hair to glare at the sickening green numbers with blurred vision. 6:45 - Wakey, wakey Clara, rise and shine and greet the day. Groaning, Clara swung off the bed, cold carpet greeting her feet. She snatched her contact lenses off her desk and proceeded place them in her eyes one after the other. Vision restored, she pulled out her chair and opened her laptop, checking her email for any notices or cancellations. No such luck there.
Her roommate sat up, looking displeased. Clara closed her computer, crossing the room to her small closet. She pulled out her jeans and a plain shirt and headed to the bathroom to change. She brushed her teeth, noting the disgusting state of the bathroom and making a mental note to clean it later. She went out and her roommate went in, and so the daily game began. It was always the same routine, later on Tuesdays and Thursdays and not at all on Fridays because she had no classes. Usually she went home to do laundry. Showing up for class naked would make a statement, but not a good one.
She picked up her bag and packed her things for her morning class. She waited patiently for her roommate; they always walked together to the dining hall and then to class. There was little conversation in the mornings. Such were the lives of college students. After a meager breakfast of Captain Crunch, Clara made her way to class, taking the elevator to the third floor. She put on her music, the German band Oomph! blasting through the headphone. Gott ist ein popstar, und die show geht los. Another day, another project, and another reason to complain. The three hours passed in a blur of color and noise, ending only when the teacher dismissed them. Clara left her headphones around her neck as she left with her friend JayCee, taking the elevator back down.
“There’s another F safely stowed in my pocket,” Clara said, referring to her piece she turned in.
“If there’s one for you, there’s one for me. I liked yours. It was awesome,” JayCee said, pushing the button to take them to the bottom floor.
“I just don’t understand. Nothing I do is ever good enough. It’s very upsetting to me,” Clara continued, staring ahead on their way. “I work so hard, but there’s always something she finds wrong. I know perfection is impossible, but really.”
“It’s only one semester, we can get through this,” JayCee replied.
“It’s just so draining to me. I’ve been going through a major block lately. I guess it’s self doubt.”
They arrived at the entrance of the library. “This is my stop. I’ll you tomorrow, Clara. I hope things work out,” JayCee said.
“Work, that reminds me. I have a lovely 8-hour shift today. How lovely. I suppose I’ll do some homework and then go. I do have four hours until then,” Clara said bitterly, waving good-bye to her friend. She walked to her dorm alone to begin one of many papers she had. She decided on the stupid, easy one. “Seriously, what kind of class makes you write a paper over a three month period? It’s absolutely ridiculous,” she complained aloud. He roommate unlocked the door and came in; Clara gave her a welcoming smile and returned to her paper. “How was your first class, Riley?”
Riley looked over at Clara. Truth be told, Riley was also Clara’s best friend. She had her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, eyeliner darkening her eyes. “And by the way, I want that shirt back,” Clara put in, arching an eyebrow. Riley had kept her H.I.M shirt for two weeks now. Riley just smiled.
“You’ll get it back,” she said. “Class was all right, nothing special. How about yours?”
“Nothing interesting. I probably failed again. I’m trying to get this stupid paper done so I can move on to more important things.”
“Oh come on, Clara. You know you’re awesome.”
“It doesn’t matter what I know,” Clara said, turning to her computer. “It’s what the professor thinks. She’s the one who grades me.”
Riley sat down at her own desk. “Any break in your block?”
“Nope. Not a crack. Sad day. It’s my turn to drive isn’t it?” Clara asked
“Huh? Yeah. It’s awesome of them to give us the same shifts.”
“Awesome, or convenient. Either one.”
“Clara, you’re just an eternal pessimist, aren’t you?” Riley said.
“I do try. I can’t believe this class. It’s a fifty-minute waste of my life. It drives me nuts.”
“I think we all agree, but we have to do what we have to do, Clare.”
“Can’t it be fun instead?”
“No. If it was fun, it wouldn’t be school.”
“But it’s not school, it’s college. Things are different,” Clara complained. “I just get so annoyed at times.”
“You need to chill, girlie. Take a break, write some poetry, a short story.”
Clara looked over at her. “Really? Did you really just suggest that?”
Riley widened her eyes. “Chill, Clara. I’m sure you’ll get through it.”

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The four hours passed sickeningly slowly. The two girls locked their door and began the walk to work. The coffee shop was only a few blocks from campus. Sweet Aroma was a small coffee shop in the Square. Clara and Riley had done most the artwork for the place. The two girls put on their aprons, tying them in the back.
“Clara, is something bothering you? You really haven’t said much all day,” Riley asked, slipping the till into the register.
“I guess my passion is elsewhere nowadays. I’ve been unmotivated for so long,” Clara answered, looking up as the bell on the door chimed. She smiled pleasantly and stood behind the register. Riley scoffed, taking some creamer out of the fridge. “So how’s Alucard?” Clara asked, waiting for her costumer to decide on what he wanted.
Alucard was Riley’s new lizard. He stayed at her house. “Oh, he’s his same green and scaly self.” Alucard freaked Clara out on occasion, but he was sort of cute, in a sick reptilian way.

“That’s good, I think,” Clara replied quickly, her costumer ready to order. He paid and she handed back his change, motioning him to have a seat until his order was ready. A few more customers buzzed about the shop, settling down at tables with their laptops or other companions to continue conversations.
Riley smiled, handing the young man his drink. “What about him?” she whispered, a sly smile on her face.
Clara shook her head. “Riley, I’m not interested in dating. I’d rather kill myself at this point.” She gasped. “That’s your evil intent isn’t it? You want to kill me so you can take over my life.”
Riley shrugged. “Drat, you figured it out Clara. Darn your intelligence.”
The night passed quietly enough. It was Clara’s night to close, so Riley waited in the sitting area while Clara took inventory, restocked, and cleaned up.
“So, what are we doing tonight, Clare?”
“I have homework, so you’re on your own, Riley. Don’t pout at me, I’ve a lot to get done,” Clara said, putting away her apron and getting her keys. Riley got up sulkily, leaving the coffee shop with a pout. Clara shut the door, making sure it locked behind her. “Besides,” she continued, “we have an early class tomorrow and it’s already ten.”

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Strangely, the same song woke Clara the next morning. She got up and dressed with little complaint. She set to work on her project, not really accomplishing anything. It was difficult to pay attention to the lecture and the critiques and the opinions of the other students. Clara was absolutely dazed.
She took the stairs down this time, eyes cast down and not paying attention to the theatre majors who passed her by. As much as she loved theatre, Clara had accepted the fact that they never would like her, not matter how much she knew about or loved it. It was an unrequited love of sorts. She nearly ran into Riley.
“Clara, I’ve got it,” she said, holding up a flyer. The print was of Hamlet, and sure enough the same was scrawled across the top.
“I’m glad you have a poster. You should hang it up in our room, give your side some color,” Clara responded.
“I meant for you! It’s your vent, your way of expression all that locked up creativity!”
“Me? Act on stage?” Clara asked, looking incredulous. “Riley, there are only two female roles in Hamlet. Every girl is school will the going out for it, and not because Shakespeare has a deep literary value to them. We all know who will get the male lead,” she said, and as if on cue, the star of the theatre department strolled down the street.
Liam was going about his way to class, his gaggle of fan girls drooling behind him. It was disgusting. Sure, he had pretty blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, but he was only attractive until he opened his mouth.
“I still think should go for it, Clare. What could it hurt?” Riley said, handing her the flyer. “If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late to class. You have all day to think about it!” she called, heading off.
Theatre for Clara. The fierce competition of getting a role. She did like Hamlet. It was one of her favorites, and she really enjoyed the brief part of Ophelia. Rehearsals would devour what was left of her life, but only if she made it. She could go on stage and bomb in front of the entire branch. Or she could exceed everyone’s expectations and land the lead, causing much jealousy.
And the theatre director was a picky woman. She could be bypassed. But then Riley would hold it over her head for as long as she could. However, if Clara were ignored, even after showing up for auditions, Riley would have noting to torment her about. That was her solution- show up, with no promises after that.
Sleep refused to aid poor Clara, and she was up half the night worrying about the audition that lay an afternoon away. Dreams crowded her head, success and failure rolled into one. It was a torment. She went to class looking like death warmed over, burying her head in her arms to sleep. And at the audition? The stage lights cast the garish shadows on her face.
The teacher dismissed class; Clara gathered her books and her nerve and walked to the theatre.