Two minutes to show time.
The musician prepared himself. Cradling his guitar, he checked its tuning again. The instrument was ready, the stage, set; the songs, memorised. He closed his eyes in preparation.
One minute to show time.
His thoughts wandered; how he had made it this far, the struggles faced, the hours of practice. He’d finally made it – made it to where he always belonged, the stage.
This wasn’t his first time, he’d performed at numerous shows before. Yet every show had been different – every show was unique. It wasn’t only the songs he sang, the whole atmosphere of every concert was always different – and he loved it, every single time. He loved the stage – he loved that stage.
The curtains opened. He looked at the audience – his audience. Oh, how he loved them. They were great, they knew how to keep a…
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