Noah Ray Meadows

Blackbird Crying in the Dead of Night

“Alright, ‘m out.” Alex called over to the last bouncer. He tucked the bundle of tips under a strap of the outfit he’d danced in. Alex shrugged on his oversized hoodie, which fell just past his hips and was barely warming his body, seeing as under it all he had on was a holographic strappy piece. He zipped up his platforms and slung his bag over his shoulder.