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The lights were blinding and Mira's arms were hurting from holding her body up for this long, but she was a professional so she kept a straight face through all of it.
Unfortunately, there was a clock on the wall hung right within her view so whenever the photographer adjusted his camera or checked the photos—Bobby right behind him to check them as well—her view drifted towards the clock.
The minutes were ticking by incredibly slow and fast at the same time. The shoot just wasn't ending, but whenever she checked the clock the time even further from when she should have been able to go home.
"A little higher again and put more weight onto your left side," the photographer called and Mira forced her tired muscles to comply. She was used to sore muscles, dancing was exhausting as well, but it felt more rewarding than this.
She also liked fashion itself—the outfit she was posing in was undeniably gorgeous. But what she enjoyed was the self-expression and attention. Walking the red carpet, posing confidently in front of the cameras or walking down a street, turning people's heads.
Fashion was a way to express herself and her emotions. But right now all she felt was exhaustion, which was obviously not what she was being paid to express.
"Good one! We're done," the photographer called from behind his camera.
Mira immediately dropped from her exhausting position to the floor to rest for a few seconds as the bustle around her started. Assistants were snatching up the props around her to put them away, people were slowly disassembling various lights and other photography equipment, and she could see the stylists start putting clothes and makeup away.
The shoot had gone on for way longer than planned—the main photographer had a reputation to drag shoots out due to his perfectionist nature—and everyone was desperate to get home.
In Mira's own head a voice that sounded suspiciously like Zoey was chanting couch, couch, couch, couch on repeat. Not for the first time in her life did she wish that there was magic that could simply remove all of her styling with a single snap and put her back into her own clothing with no makeup on and her hair down without any products in.
Sadly, this spell had not been invented yet, so Mira lifted herself up from the floor and massaged her hurting arms as she walked over to the stylists. She was trying her best to stay awake as the stylists fussed over her—helping her out of the brand clothing and removing all of the clips and hair ties that were holding her hairstyle in place.
Half an hour later Mira was leaving the building, following Bobby to the company car. She leaned her head against the cold car window and watched the city's lights move past in the dark as Bobby started driving.
The darkness inside of the car was not helping Mira fight against her exhaustion, and even though she was determined to stay awake until she got home, her eyes kept slipping shut and eventually stayed shut as she nodded off against the car window.
Her head was still leaned against the window and Mira could feel a crick in her neck as Bobby woke her up in the underground parking lot of their penthouse.
"You did great today," he said cheerfully as she opened the car door. "Get some sleep now."
"Thanks Bobby, you too," Mira responded with a lot less energy before making her way towards the elevator.
When she finally opened the door to their penthouse her exhaustion returned with full force, but now paired with a sense of calm and comfort. She was almost ready to fall asleep right there in front of the door, but before it could come to that Zoey arrived and helped Mira drag herself to the couch.
"Was your shoot fun?"
"Exhausting," Mira said. "Wanna sleep."
Zoey started arranging pillows and blankets around and on top of her as Mira laid starfished on the sofa before tugging on her arm to maneuver her right into the middle of the cozy pile and draping herself half on top of Mira.
The warmth and coziness of Zoey and the couch wasn't helping against her exhaustion and even though she still had makeup on, product in her hair, and was craving a shower, Mira felt herself starting to nod off again. But this time with Zoey right next to her, gently petting Mira's head and quietly reading turtle facts from her phone—way better than the car window.
"Did you know that there's a tortoise that's almost 200 years old? His name is Jonathan. I wish I could meet him one day," Zoey was quietly rambling next to her. "Maybe I should write a song about him."
Before Mira fully lost consciousness she heard steps approaching and then murmuring voices before a third body joined her and Zoey on the couch. Finally exactly where she was supposed to be, Mira gave in to her body and fell asleep.