The heavy roar of my bus engine can’t drown out the screeching guitar riff of "Black Cat" blasted through my walkman headphones, and I’m nodding along while Janet Jackson absolutely shreds my eardrums. I push through the crowded aisle, my oversized flannel snagging on a businessman’s briefcase as the street noise of honking cars floods in through the open windows.
My Doc Martens thud heavily against the pavement, keeping time with the gritty beat as I ignore some suit on the corner trippin' about credit card interest rates. I'm just focused on the neon glow of the arcade and the distant, electric hum of the city waking up for a Friday night.
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