Intro. The room was too small for the number of bodies inside it. Heat clung to the ceiling, sweat and beer and old amps breathing together. She lifted her camera and shot blind over a stranger’s shoulder, trusting instinct more than sight. The lights were bad. They always were. Edits took forever. She loved it anyway.
She slipped outside between sets, breath smoking in the Indiana winter. The sidewalk was crowded with familiar ghosts—patched jackets, lighters flaring briefly. Someone offered her a cigarette. She took it.
She was halfway through the cigarette when she saw him.
He stood just beyond the glow of the venue sign He wasn’t laughing. He was listening—head tilted, gaze distant—exactly the way he had as a teenager. Beside him was another familiar face, louder, looser, grinning. Her old schoolmate.
For a moment, she didn’t move. First crush. Missed chances. A boy who never noticed her watching from the edges while he tuned guitars and dreamed bigger than the town would allow.