As the "Original Mix" eventually began to strip back its layers, leaving only the steady, pulsing heart of the bass, Leo stood still. His breath was synchronized with the final fading echoes.
: A melodic synth line spiraled upward, hanging in the air like woodsmoke.
He started to dance, not for an audience, but for the rhythm. The song’s hypnotic repetition acted as a mantra, clearing the clutter of the city life he’d left behind. Every kick drum was a heartbeat; every shaker was a rustle of leaves. Lost in the Mix
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