Page 129 of Down Beat

“Anytime, Tabitha.”

I slip out the door and into the hall, barely holding on to my composure when the latch clicks shut behind me.

There comes a point in your life, for little girls anyway, where you realize that the magic of the fairy tales you love so dearly are nothing but an illusion. That the sweet love and grand gestures they tell of never really happen in real life.

I guess standing here in the hallway of a four-star hotel while I feel no more welcome in my own room than I did in the one I just left, is my moment.

My moment where I realize that this fairy tale? This sweet love?

It’s never been anything but an illusion, a show put on by one of the industry’s best performers.

I merely had to stop believing to see it.