Paper Parachute

The low hum of the bar was a familiar sound, the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations a constant backdrop to Blake Everett's life. He twirled the whiskey glass in his hand, the amber liquid swirling, mirroring the state of his own life.
Another drink. He gestured to the bartender, the familiar dullness settling in. It didn't matter how many, or where he was going. He was already lost.
Across town, under the brighter lights of Deno's, Blair Andrews stepped onto the small stage. The apron was off, the guitar in her hands a symbol of her true purpose. This was it, another open mic night, another chance to be heard. She took a deep breath, the familiar mix of anxiety and excitement bubbling up. "How's everyone doing tonight?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. "My name's Blair and I've got just one song for you tonight..."