Morning in the Villa
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Ariel opened his eyes, the morning sun filtering through the heavy velvet curtains of his luxury villa. The room was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning and the unblinking stares of the five silicone dolls positioned around the room like a silent audience.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. The dream of Ibiza—the crowd of 10,000 screaming his name—was fading, replaced by the growl of The Beast. The massive dog blocked the bedroom door, eyeing Ariel's ankles as if they were chew toys. Ariel had two choices: brave the commute to the soul-crushing diamond shop, or stay home, risk the dog, and work on his mixtape.