Chapter 1: Sad

Veneer, stationary, the lee to the current of dance, saw upon the stage an idol, a muse, a personal goal. He grasped towards the lit succubi with a frail, gloved arm.
Out of reach.
The drum beat fluttered and a guitar with a faceless player swooned. The tiny dancer took a knee and caressed his microphone.
"Can anybody find me
Somebody to love?"