"They look like ants, bustling around out there," she mutters to herself as she looks out the window, down to the city below. Turning away, she finishes getting ready for her show, the final touch will come right before entering on stage right.

There's a knock at the door, "Miss Christie, you have two minutes," and I remember my first performance at age twelve. I was shaking, my face flushed pink with nervousness, my hands trembling as they took hold of the microphone.

Another knock sounds and Crystal is shaken from her memory, quickly slipping on the last piece of her outfit, knee-high leather boots, and exiting her dressing room.

"Finally, Miss Christie! I really wish you'd move faster, your fans are getting restless." She flips her hair, whipping on her stage persona, picking up her headphones and mic.

"Really? Because I really wish you'd go introduce me." She steps out on the stage to the sound of cheering, base drum, and her best friends backing her up for her last time on the stage. Singing solo just doesn't have the same ring it did twenty years ago...