Suddenly, the driver took a sharp turn into the Industrial District. They pulled up to a warehouse that looked abandoned, save for a single violet light pulsing from a high window. "We're here," the driver muttered.
But it was the voice cutting through the smoke that changed everything.
From the shadows stepped a man draped in a long leather coat, moving with a confidence that seemed to defy gravity. Mark Morrison didn't just enter the room; he reclaimed it.
Austin sat in the back of a blacked-out sedan, his face illuminated by the flickering passing of streetlights. He felt like a bird in a gilded cage—"Cooped Up" by the very fame he’d chased. The leather seats were too soft, the air conditioning too cold, and the silence inside the car was deafening compared to the roar of the stadium he’d just left. He pulled his hood up, staring at his own reflection. He was waiting for something to break the tension of being stuck in his own head.
"You thought it was over?" Mark’s voice was a rich, soulful velvet that cut through Austin’s melancholy. "You thought I was gone?"
Suddenly, the driver took a sharp turn into the Industrial District. They pulled up to a warehouse that looked abandoned, save for a single violet light pulsing from a high window. "We're here," the driver muttered.
But it was the voice cutting through the smoke that changed everything. Suddenly, the driver took a sharp turn into
From the shadows stepped a man draped in a long leather coat, moving with a confidence that seemed to defy gravity. Mark Morrison didn't just enter the room; he reclaimed it. But it was the voice cutting through the
Austin sat in the back of a blacked-out sedan, his face illuminated by the flickering passing of streetlights. He felt like a bird in a gilded cage—"Cooped Up" by the very fame he’d chased. The leather seats were too soft, the air conditioning too cold, and the silence inside the car was deafening compared to the roar of the stadium he’d just left. He pulled his hood up, staring at his own reflection. He was waiting for something to break the tension of being stuck in his own head. Austin sat in the back of a blacked-out
"You thought it was over?" Mark’s voice was a rich, soulful velvet that cut through Austin’s melancholy. "You thought I was gone?"