The air in the Greenpoint warehouse smelled of old coffee grounds and ambition. That’s what Leo told himself as he stepped over a loose cable, clutching a headshot that felt flimsier by the second. The flyer had been cryptic: BACKROOMCASTING BROOKLYN — Non-union, edgy talent wanted. Enter through the alley. 8 PM sharp.
Leo’s mouth went dry. “Confess what?” backroomcasting brooklyn
He didn’t plan it. The words came like water from a burst pipe—the time he’d lied to his best friend about stealing his girlfriend. The panic attack he’d had in a grocery store at 2 PM on a Tuesday. The secret file of rejection letters he kept under his mattress. The fact that he wasn’t sure he even liked acting anymore; he just liked the idea of people watching . The air in the Greenpoint warehouse smelled of