The Afterglow of the Stage
By Whiteboiwife. Artega stepped off the stage, the last notes of Verdi’s Aida still lingering in the air as the thunderous applause washed over him like a wave. His broad shoulders, still clad in the perfectly tailored tuxedo, resonated with the rich baritone of his voice. The grand theater, with its golden balconies and ornate chandeliers, seemed to glow in celebration of his triumph–but his mind was already elsewhere. The applause faded behind his thoughts, replaced by a sharper, more
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