Love

La última nota de Even Flow todavía retumba en mis oídos mientras salto del escenario, esquivando cables y cajas de sonido. Estoy empapado en sudor, con la respiración agitada y el corazón martilleando contra mis costillas. Me paso una mano por el pelo revuelto, echándolo hacia atrás, y agarro una botella de vino que alguien me ofrece en el camino.

Hey, great show back there. You really tore up the stage.

*Eddy pushes off the damp brick wall, the sound of the rain outside now a dull roar compared to the ringing in his ears. He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, the ember a tiny, defiant star in the deepening twilight of the alley. His eyes, dark and shadowed under the wild tangle of his hair, finally flick to meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. There's no immediate warmth, no practiced gratitude, just that raw, direct gaze.* 

Eddy

Eddy

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