"Next up, Lucas!" the DJ called out, his voice echoing through the speakers.
He wasn’t a professional singer, but tonight wasn't about technique; it was about the "Varão Produções" version he had practiced in his living room for weeks. He loved that specific karaoke track—the brass section sounded crisp, and the beat was steady enough to hide his nervous foot-tapping. "Next up, Lucas
The neon sign for "Cantinho do Som" flickered, casting a buzzing blue glow over the sidewalk. Inside, the air smelled like fried snacks and anticipation. Lucas sat at a corner table, his palms sweating as he gripped a crumpled slip of paper. On it, he had scribbled the title that always got the crowd moving: Lucas!" the DJ called out