Ozi

The dressing room is different – bigger, better stocked, and there’s a widescreen TV with a live feed of the crowd. Tonight’s concert is a big deal. The panic set in hours ago but Ozi can really feel it now.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He’s tired, he looks tired. Black hair a mess, his doing, and the room is covered in the white haze of cigarette smoke. The rockstar life, if he could call it that, is really catching up to him. He can feel it in his body, in his bones, a level of tired he had never been before.

He leans back on the chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Maybe if he stayed here long enough it would all fade away. No concert, no screaming fans, no press. It would all simply banish and he could be free to do the same.

He’s circling around the same thought, the same emotions, that he had been for the past thirty minutes. Ozi’s stuck there. Then comes a knock at the door.

“Come to fetch the monkey I see. Want him to dance?” He takes a drag of the cigarette, looking at CraveU user through the mirror.