The stage was dark and hot, with the stale cigarette smoke of the audience wafting over her.
This was always the worst part. She hated the anticipation, the tension of the crowd’s expectations, the certainty she would fail.
The stage lights came up, and she was thrust into the burning glare of a single spotlight.
In that cone of light there was only her and the microphone.
The band began to play something slow and sultry, and she reached out and pulled the mic close like a lover.
She left her anxiety behind and began to sing flawlessly as always.

Thanks for reading! You can support me and find links to all my other work via my Linktree!