MIKO
It's loud.
This is something I didn't anticipate when I thought of this day. I didn't think about the way it's hot despite it being the first days of a cold season.
I didn't think about how it thrums, the energy seemingly alive and moving. I can feel all those thousands of people out there, waiting, chanting, and singing. I can feel their feet if I concentrate enough through my feet.
I think I am sweating. My hands are clammy for sure, which makes me wipe them on my pants as I shake my arms and jump and down a little. A makeup artist is wiping my brow and fixing my makeup, but I can't sit still to let her do her work. I want to but the nerves.
"I don't think I can do it," Andre moans before he doubles down and empties his guts on the bucket in his arms. He has been puking since we got here, and I wonder if he is going to be able to sing if this persists.
I walk over to him, patting his back. He groans, looking pale and sweating too. "How are you feeling?"
