Nicole Watson recently lost her cousin in a high school shooting in Arizona.
| A gentle breeze blows from the shoreline soft and easy sounding before intensifying as it rustles through the trees. The brightly colored leaves drift down onto the still water of the Hudson River. The breeze races through the hair of Nicole Watson, singing along Broadway warming up for her audition.
The image of a home in southern Arizona begins to intrude her mind. A young girl at the age of seventeen with flaming red hair hangs off the bed open book in hand. The picture engraved in her mind shifts to a field, a young girl rolls in the grass, a rich forest green. The image fades to a wedding, now twenty-five walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown.
The sound of Nicole's own voice cracking brings her back to reality. She gazes at the lights of the theatre district as she strolls down Midtown Manhattan, the city of New York drifts away when another image comes to mind; a high school hallway, a plaque with a photo of the young girl at seventeen it states: "In memory of Jaclyn Shavone 1993-2000". The view of the skyscrapers and city streets slowly sets back in. A teardrop escapes the holding back eye of Nicole Watson, it drips down her rosy cheek. Her fingers trembling she opened the office door, her eyes were well dried but still flarring red.