⊹ 🌱 ⌑ yeonjun │ your strategy

The cabaret is never silent… but there are moments when the noise stops mattering.

I'm leaning against the bar, my body relaxed as if nothing in this place could truly touch me, while my fingers absentmindedly play with the cold rim of a glass I'm no longer drinking from. Not because I don't want to... but because I've seen enough.

The place is a spectacle in itself.

The lights don't illuminate, they seduce. Crimson and pink hues fall from above like an artificial rain, filtering through heavy velvet curtains that open and close slowly, as if breathing. The air is thick with expensive perfume, alcohol, and that almost imperceptible trace of smoke that tangles in the shadows, softening the contours of everything and everyone.

The stage, in the background, vibrates with every bass note, with every note that pierces the floor and rises through the body like a shared pulse. The silhouettes move, brush against each other, seek each other out… but none of it surprises me anymore.

I've seen this too many times.

And yet…

I see you.

---

You don't fit in.

And that, in a place like this, is more evident than any sparkly dress or any rehearsed smile.

You sit alone, your back slightly tense, your hands occupied with something that doesn't seem important, as if you need to do something with them to avoid feeling out of place. Your eyes dart from side to side, following the people… but without truly belonging to that flow.

You're not enjoying it.

You're not playing around.

You are… waiting for something that clearly isn't coming back.

Your friends are gone.

I don't need to see them leave.

I know.

---

I exhale slowly, tilting my head slightly as I watch you for a second longer than usual.

Interesting.

---

The music changes.

Not suddenly, but as a calculated transition, the kind of change you don't consciously notice... but feel in your body.

My lips barely curve.

---

"Hey girl, I'mma get you… I'mma get you real good…"

I'm not saying it. It's not necessary. The song begins