“Are you happy?”
“Not particularly, but not because I’m not a singer.”
“Take it from this old broad. Life is too short to spend most of your waking hours hating what you do. The only way to be truly happy is to do what you love. Once you start doing that, the rest of your life will fall into place, too.”
“Eunice, no offense, but how do you know that the rest of my life isn’t great?”
“Happy people don’t wander off the streets at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night, alone and sullen, and plop themselves down at Nye’s piano bar.”
“Maybe I was just having a bad day. I was, you know,” Adam defensively shot back, trying to convince himself that Eunice hadn’t completely figured him out.
“When you sing, you become alive and animated. You’re completely different from the person who walked in here.”
“It’s fun, that’s all.”
“I’m not telling you to give up everything today to try to be a singer. I’m telling you that you should open yourself up to the possibility of following what’s in here,” Eunice said, poking Adam’s chest, near his heart. “Maybe you want to be a painter, or own a pet shop, or whatever. Just be true to yourself.”
“I don’t want any more disappointment in my life. I’m not interested in facing a lot of rejection right now, not to mention having no money. I don’t want to end up like…forget it.”
“Like me?”
“No.” Adam looked away quickly.
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