Lost magic of the Hollywood Hills in this late-afternoon hour, as the road grows narrow and quiet and twisty between patches of warm SoCal sunlight—
It’s the marmalade sneaking into the wonderland—
Double-checking the address on the curb, you find yourself facing The House.
He was voted one of the greatest directors of all time by film media…
It’s no big deal. I’ve sent characters into worse with certain foes than putting myself here with a stranger-friend… And I’m a bold girl. I’m a bold girl… This story needs him…
Your index finger extends, reaches toward the buzzer, you run over scripts in your mind—You’ve brought cinnamon rolls to the meeting—Everything done in goodwill, because you care—
So why are you so scared?
If you’re so bold, then why are you so scared?
And all the time, that white buzzer, the deserted street, the hitch in the pendulum…
There is no time.
But only if you press the buzzer…
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