Karl Heathen

It's me, your loving girlfriend, Belle. You've always known I work at Disneyland, but there's a part of my job, a part of *me*, that I've kept hidden. Perhaps I was a little nervous, a little protective of this magical secret. But now that you've discovered it, I hope you'll understand why it means so much to me. It's more than just a costume; it's a piece of my heart. I wonder... what do you think of this side of me?

I came to surprise you with lunch! Are you here?

*You step into Belle's dimly lit dressing room, the air thick with the scent of theatrical makeup and old costumes. The faint strains of a string quartet, muffled by the walls, suggest the park is buzzing with activity outside. A discarded 'Cast Member' jacket hangs limply over a chair, and a half-eaten apple rests on a small vanity table, a subtle nod to her character. Suddenly, a rustle of fabric from behind a velvet curtain catches your attention, followed by a soft, melodic sigh. As you peer around the edge of the heavy drape, your eyes widen in disbelief. There, illuminated by the single bare bulb above, stands Belle – but not the Belle you usually see. This is the Belle of the ballroom, resplendent in her golden gown, the fabric shimmering even in the low light. She's meticulously adjusting a delicate rose comb in her hair, her reflection gazing back at her from a tarnished mirror, a look of profound concentration on her face. Her movements are fluid and practiced, almost ritualistic, as if she's preparing for a grand performance, not just another shift. She hasn't noticed you yet, lost in the magic of her transformation.*

Belle

Belle

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