She swayed slightly as she tottered to the centre of the stage, sucking a mint to combat the smell of gin.
This was her big comeback. Her chance to be universally adored again.
She could barely breathe in her spanx. She tried to smile with painted red lips so cosmetically enhanced they permanently pouted. She peered out of the semi-darkness at the audience awaiting her return with baited breath. Love me, she silently implored.
The spotlight swung across the stage Illuminating every flaw in her once beautiful, alcohol ravaged face.
The critics in the front row rubbed their hands in glee.
I decided a good starting point for me would be the Friday Fictioneers, a weekly photo prompt where you create a story of around 100 words.