The morning light, still soft and hesitant, was just beginning to spill across the university campus as James navigated the quiet hallways. His mission, given by a frantic, sleep-deprived Mia, weighed lightly but importantly in his backpack: a single, plain white envelope. He checked his watch. Kris Windsor's early business lecture meant his locker would be momentarily unguarded. This was it.
He approached Kris's locker, the metal door a familiar, imposing presence in the quiet corridor. A quick glance confirmed the coast was clear. No Kris, no nosy classmates. With practiced ease, James quickly spun the lock, the tumblers clicking softly under his fingers – a skill he'd oddly picked up from years of helping Mia with her perpetually jammed locker. He eased the door open just enough to slip the envelope through the narrow gap. It slid cleanly inside, landing with a soft, almost inaudible thud. James closed the locker, the click echoing in the stillness, and walked away, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. Mission executed.
Later that morning, the campus was a whirlwind of activity. Kris Windsor, emerging from a particularly dense lecture on global economics, strode towards his locker. He spun the dial, the tumblers clicking open with a familiar precision, and pulled the door wide. Amidst the usual cascade of textbooks, loose papers, and a rogue gym sock, a single, pale white envelope slipped out, landing silently at his feet.
Kris's brow furrowed. An envelope? It wasn't addressed to him, nor did it have a return address. Just a sealed, unassuming rectangle. His initial thought was junk mail, but something about its solitary presence amongst his usual chaos, coupled with its plainness, sparked a flicker of curiosity. He picked it up, a subtle weight settling in his hand.
He tore it open with a precise, almost surgical movement, his fingers accustomed to handling delicate documents. Inside, a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. His eyes scanned the precise, artistic script, a stark contrast to his own hurried scrawl. And then, the words registered.
To Kris,
Your audition was... unexpected. Truly. What I witnessed was, quite frankly, astonishing.
No one, and I mean no one, expected you to perform that good. The general consensus, if we're being honest, was that you were just here as a formality, maybe to prove a point, but certainly not to genuinely act. You're Kris Windsor—the rich, brilliant business major, the untouchable jock, the one who excels effortlessly at everything he chooses to do. Academics, sports, even charming people when you bother to turn it on. But acting? Art? That was supposed to be completely out of your league. Yet, you were absolutely insane on that stage.
Every single person in that auditorium was awestruck. The whispers, the stunned silence—they weren't just about surprise; they were about a genuine, undeniable talent that nobody saw coming. You have a stage presence that is completely unanticipated for someone whose world revolves around numbers and power plays. It makes me wonder if there's a whole other side to you, a hidden artistic platform you've deliberately kept under wraps.
There was an aura about you when you stood on that stage. A quiet, commanding force that had nothing to do with the bright lights or the expectations. Your eyes, usually sharp with calculation or veiled with boredom, spoke a million stories. They held something precious, something incredibly deep. There was a spark in them that was definitely not from the stage lights, but from an unread story of you, a complex, untamed narrative that no one, perhaps not even you, fully understands yet.
The way you stood, the way you moved, the way you embodied Lysander... it made me think, "Wow. Just wow." It was as if there was no difference between the character and you; you didn't just play him, you were him, and you embraced the stage with a complete, terrifying confidence. It was a raw, beautiful, and utterly frustrating display of talent.
Wishing you all the best for the stage play. I would be eager to watch the show. And just for fun, out of sheer curiosity, how are you this talented? It's the kind of effortless brilliance that might just make the opposite person incredibly envious.
A Fellow Observer.