There was nothing different about the day. It was the same routine. Wake up late, rush out the door, sit in traffic, sit in class. His filled his conscious mind with the infatuation of life in fame. His friends talked, but he only heard the sound of thousands of voices trying to speak over each other in anticipation. The sound of his feet walking up the metallic stairs with his squad behind him; laughing and joking. He hears the enlightened roar of the crowd as they notice him behind the decks.
He slips a parliament out of his pack, lights it with the same suave attitude you’d see a greaser with, and exhales. Gazing over the masses, he embraces the feeling, and presses play.