Wish on an Eyelash (Lingorm)

under pressure

This work is pure fiction and has nothing to do with the private lives of Orm and Lingling.

-

The atmosphere inside the Stratosphere Records recording studio was a mix of tension and boredom. The producers rested their heads in their hands, slouched in their chairs. Leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, was Rami, the manager. His serious expression, combined with his slightly bowed head, cast a shadow that gave him an even more somber look. Everyone in the room had their eyes fixed on the young blonde singer in the recording booth. She scribbled something in her notebook, then erased it. Wrote a little more, and erased it again...

The day had started out promising, but now, after nearly six hours of absolutely no progress, the waiting had become unbearable. The producers had run out of small talk, and the ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to grow louder and slower by the minute.

Rami sighed, running a hand through his neatly trimmed black beard. "Enough," he thought, but just as he was about to say something, the booth door swung open.

"Okay, guys, I think I've got something!" The young singer exclaimed with a faint, sideways smile, hiding the composition notebook behind her back.

Everyone in the room turned their eyes toward her, and suddenly, after hours of nothing, there was a spark of surprise and anticipation. "Well, what are you waiting for? Show us!" one of the men said with excitement. Rami's eyes showed a brief flash of relief, but his body remained rigid, arms still crossed.

The young woman cleared her throat and moved toward the digital piano in the room, sitting down in front of it. "Well, this piece is called... actually, I don't have a name for it yet, but here it goes..."

The piano melody began with a low A chord, followed by a soft arpeggio. The gentle rhythm seemed to wake up the ears of everyone in the room. The singer briefly glanced at the attentive gazes, then turned her eyes back to the instrument, taking a deep breath before starting to sing...

"When the day feels heavy, and I'm dragging my feet...

I crave the warmth of dumplings... Oh! it can't be beat.

...With every bite of noodles, my worries unwind...

In a bowl of sweet soy sauce, my peace I will find..."

The silence that followed was almost deafening. The producers exchanged glances, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what had just happened. Though none of them spoke, it was clear that someone was trying very hard not to laugh, with faint nasal snickers being stifled, though it was hard to tell exactly who.

Suddenly, a loud stomach growl broke the absolute silence of the room.

"Oops, sorry, guys, I think I'm a little hungry..." the singer said with a playful tone.

"Orm! Is this a joke to you?"

For the first time, all eyes shifted to the opposite side of the room, where Rami stood, still with his arms crossed, but his previously serious look of attention had been replaced with one of disbelief.

"Sorry, I don't get it, P'Rami," Orm replied casually.

"We've been here for what? Five hours? And this is what you give us? A verse about... food?"

"Uh... it's not just any food, it's Chinese food."

"I couldn't care less what kind of food it is! What matters is that we've been here for hours, for days, trying to get a new song out of you! And this..." he uncrossed his arms and pointed sharply at Orm's notebook, "...isn't anywhere close to what we need. Do you get that?"