Samara walked out of the bathroom, just to run into the person she was running from, Mrs. Jones.
"Wow, Samara, that was wonderful, your work is better every time I hear it."
"YES! It's absolutely amazing!"
"Thank you." She whispered.
"You must have quite the poetic life." She lifted her head and raised her eyebrow.
"Poetic life?" Mrs. Jones chuckled.
"Yeah, the kind of life where you can be walking down the street, see something, and words flow straight to your head. You have to get a piece of paper and write it down." She thought about it for a minute.
"Yeah, I guess I do." She said as she once again stared down at her boots.
"So what do you say to dropping by my office, so that we can talk about publishing?"
"YES! What did you think I'd do with this great talent? Let you play small shows for free? NO! The world needs to know about you. You will be the most respected poet among the world of writing!"
"There's just one thing we need to work on."
"What's that?"
"Taking your energy you have when you're up there on the stage and put it in the real world."
"Yeah, I guess I'm kind of shy."
"But that's ok, we can work on it. So you have my card, stop by that address around, say fiveish tomorrow."
"Ok, I'll be there." And with that Mrs. Jones walked away. She reached in her purse and pulled out the card she had been given yesterday. "I'll be there." She repeated.

The next day, at 4:46, she set out in her car to the address on the card. Technically she wasn't supposed to be driving without someone older in the car, since she was only 16, and didn't have her official license yet, but this summer the police had been few, so she took the chance. She wasn't ready to tell her mother just yet.
When she arrived outside the building at 4:59, she looked at the building, took a deep breath, and walked in. There were two elevators; one said building 2 over it, the other building 3. She looked at the card. It didn't specify what building, so she went over to the closest security guard.
"Um, excuse me, sir, but do you know what building Amanda Jones's office is located in?"
"Yeah, I keep telling her to put it on the card, but I guess she hasn't reprinted yet. Take elevator 2 to the fourth floor, then take a right, you'll see her receptionist."
"Well, thank you very much."
"No problem ma'am." She walked up to the elevator and got in. It was incredibly small, and there was one other person in there.
"What floor?"
"Same as me. Who are you going to see?" Samara became uncomfortable talking to a complete stranger, but she didn't want to be rude, and answered the woman's question.
"Amanda Jones."
"Oh, I'm her receptionist."
"Oh, what a coincidence."
"Are you her 5:10 appointment?"
"Uh, only if that's the only appointment she has around five."
"Yeah! You're that Samara Amanti, aren't you?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Yeah, she talks about you a lot, you will most likely end up being published here, that is if you like her conditions." That sentence got her thinking.
'What if she has a bad contract, is this trip useless? Is this one big scam? Oh no, what have I gotten into?!'