"You're late," she said, not looking at him, her voice barely a whisper under the roar of the chorus.
He pushed through the crowd. The transition to the verse—fast, rhythmic, a lyrical sprint—matched the sudden spike in his pulse. He reached her just as the beat dropped into that signature, melodic lull.
"Every time I see you, I’m losing my mind," the speakers thundered.
The track looped, the bass kicked back in, and for a moment, the world outside the heavy steel doors ceased to exist.
Inside, the smoke was thick enough to swallow secrets. On the small, elevated stage, two figures moved like ghosts in the strobe light. They weren't the artists from the track, but they lived the lyrics.
