Under The Naked Moon
Dressed in my signature black leather jacket and dark glasses, I projected an air of enigmatic coolness, but beneath the facade, a storm of memories churned within.
As we readied ourselves, Raymond, my steadfast friend, and Beta picked up on the subtle cues of turmoil. His swaggering approach, almost like a dance, was a silent invitation for me to unburden myself. "What's eating at you, man?" he probed, genuine concern etched across his features, his hand resting on my shoulder.
My lips struggled to articulate the inner turmoil, but eventually, I muttered, "I'm good." The hollowness in my response couldn't escape Raymond's discerning gaze. Friends have a way of knowing, and my eyes betrayed
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