The atmosphere was thick, dense to a point that turned his stomach. The crowd was supposed to boost his adrenaline, make him invincible to everything he was scared of, but it had the opposite effect. Mike was at the edge of a proverbial canyon staring down into the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. His knees trembled violently, wanting to buckle completely but settling for a fairly loud scraping sound made from his jeans grinding together. His band began to play their signature song, the one that had gotten them to this stage in the first place, the one that they knew by heart, and the one that he could barely hear as he stood frozen behind the microphone.

Mike let go of his guitar, allowing it to slap against his exposed midsection. His fingertips were numb and of no use to him if he couldn’t feel the strings to play his melody. He took hold of the microphone, hoping that if he held on to its stand inspiration would flow through him as if he were grappling with an electric fence. All he wanted was to remember the lyrics, to remember what it meant to believe that music could change the world. He hadn’t felt that way in months.

Goddammit! He screamed in his head. This wasn’t his fault; Jeremiah was behind all of this. If Jeremiah had been more careful, if he had just read the damn prescription bottle correctly, Mike would be able to sing his song without being terrified of the people who stared him down. The audience watched him with hawk eyes, moving together in a uniformed sway that reminded him of waves crowding toward the shore.

Jeremiah would have been right there in the center of the mass, commanding attention and forcing the others to create a perfect circle around him, emphasizing his greatness. He would have been smiling his infamous half smile that made people think he was up to no good, not knowing that it was merely a disorder that refused to let part of his mouth rise to the occasion. And he would have made damn sure that Mike remembered everything he was supposed to say, that he remembered….him.

“This song,” Mike said as he pushed past the lump sitting in his throat. “Is for my cousin who died this year.”

His band began to play again; he neared his lips to the microphone and opened his mouth just wide enough to be heard.

“Like a perfect circle rarely seen, you were the that commanded my dreams.”