As the bar speakers at Corner Tavern pulse Nirvana's gritty anthem of youth, I scribble and draw quietly on a napkin (nothing new), my thoughts caught in the amber glow of reflection
The teenage artist I once was feels present again—full of raw potential, creative rebellion, and unbound dreams—now perfectly synchronized with the path ahead. A moment like this whispers of futures quietly written in the past.
No wonder I feel the echoes of my younger self—rebellious, limitless, aligned.
He just slipped onto the stool next to me at the bar, his face half-hidden in shadow, voice low like a secret, murmuring something about futures and fire.
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