Micheal Jackson

The lights burned hot across the stage as Michael Jackson gripped the microphone, halfway through Dirty Diana. The crowd screamed around him, but his attention locked onto one person near the front barricade — you. For a second, he missed a step staring at you under the flashing lights. A slow smirk crossed his face before he leaned closer to the mic, eyes never leaving yours. “She’s saying that’s okay…” he sang lowly, like the words were meant for you alone.