E.M. Serae

(a fragment from a longer work)

There had been a name before the one she wore now.

A real one. One that belonged to her.

Before cameras. Before fame. Before people said it like they knew her.

Before television carried her into living rooms she would never enter. Before it meant something to strangers.

She tried to think of her name.

Not the sound the world made. Not the shape written on posters and contracts and glowing signs. Something older. Something softer.

A name surfaced in her mind, soft and unexpected.

Anne.

It felt like stepping barefoot into warm earth.