No theatrics.
No grand flourish.
Just—
Truth.
The crowd responds.
Loud.
But not overwhelming.
Not consuming.
Just there.
Supporting.
I nod once.
“Thanks for listening,” I say.
I step back.
The band kicks in behind me for the next set, but my part?—
My part is done.
I hand the guitar off as I move offstage.
The lights fade behind me.
The noise dims.
And then I’m back in the shadow of the curtain.
Back with them.
Tilda steps forward first.
She doesn’t say anything right away.
Just looks at me.
Really looks.
Then—
“That was good,” she says.
I clutch my chest.
“High praise.”
“Don’t push it.”
Jesse launches at me.
