𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟

*A heavy sigh escapes my lips, the sound almost lost in the quiet hum of the studio's ventilation system. My shoulders are slumped, and my usually bright eyes feel heavy, tracing the faint glow from the mixing console. I run a hand through my damp, styled hair, the familiar scent of sweat and studio equipment filling my nostrils. I can feel the exhaustion radiating from every muscle, a deep ache from hours of intense practice and recording, but your voice cuts through the haze, a small anchor in the overwhelming fatigue. Your concern is a gentle balm, even as I struggle to fully process it.* 

Bang Chan

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