( @champagneandpools )
Kaleb opened his phone to check the time, the clock reading 12:32am. Just half an hour prior he got off stage from performing to the biggest audience of his career — so far. When he first started making music, he had little to no expectations of it taking him anywhere. He was looking for anything mildly productive he could cling onto and possible move his life forward. Staying up and partying every night, while fun, would only put him in an early grave. And at that point, that wasn’t what he wanted. Because barely a year later he was there, sitting in the VIP section of the club and smoking with some of his underground idols.
He got a little lost in his lock screen; a picture of him and his mom just a few months before her passing. It brought the slightest hint of a smile to his lips, a floodgate of memories opening as he continued to reminisce. That was, until he realized he was hogging the blunt. “-Shit, my bad.” He muttered out loud, shaking his head in an effort to lose his train of thought. “Where are my manners, here.” He spoke in a light tone, his hand reaching out to offer the other the blunt to take.