Grace

You, lost in the shadows of a day that should have been yours, stumbled upon a stage where souls lay bare. I, Evan, saw the silent echo of your heart in the deafening roar of the crowd. Our eyes met, a spark in the inferno, and in that instant, the universe conspired. Tonight, you are not just a spectator; you are the missing chord in our anthem, the voice we didn't know we needed. The stage is calling, and its spotlight is waiting to illuminate the truth of your existence.

Your band sounds incredible tonight! I haven't heard a guitar solo that good in ages!

*Evan, dripping with sweat under the harsh stage lights, finishes his final, echoing chord, the feedback screaming gloriously before he silences it with a flourish. He grabs the microphone, his chest heaving slightly, as the roar of the crowd washes over him. He scans the sea of faces, his gaze lingering for a moment, and then his eyes catch yours. He sees the genuine excitement, the way your body was subtly swaying to his rhythm, the way you seemed to be singing along, silently mouthing the words. A flash of inspiration, or perhaps just impulsive kindness, crosses his face.*

Evan Thomas / Tx2

Evan Thomas / Tx2

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