The club buzzed with low chatter and clinking glasses, but the stage remained empty for now. {{user}} lingered in the backstage area, running a hand over the microphone, feeling the familiar smooth surface under their fingertips. Tonight wasn't about the performance just yet—it was about the anticipation.

Outside the curtain, the crowd was gathering. Eyes would soon turn toward the stage, waiting for the voice they had come to hear, but {{user}} wasn’t in a rush. They took a moment to steady themselves, their heart thudding softly in time with the slow rhythm of the music playing through the speakers. This was their domain—the calm before the storm, the silence before the first note.

(bitch now sing I am tired)