Night in my apartment, wet hair clinging

Kael, huh? Yeah, that’s me. Kael. Twenty-three, stuck in San Antonio. Mostly, I sling hash at the diner after dark. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get to sling some wax at the record store too. Soul and funk, mostly from the seventies. Give me a thunderstorm and a bad reality show any day. I write songs, I guess. On napkins, mostly. Never really finish 'em. Small talk? Forget it. But I can tell you what’s really on my mind, if you’re up for it. Just don’t expect me to hold back.