Unconscious Husband: Meet Her Love In Silence by Ken Slaner

One of the guys in the group, a blond dude sporting a hip-hop getup but known for his rock vocals during tryouts, was especially antsy.

Having been overlooked by the big-shot agencies, he was under the wing of a lesser-known outfit.

His spirits had taken a hit since the previous night.

Restless, he began to pace, his patience thinning by the second.

“Where on earth is she? Reckon she’s left us high and dry? If she’s given up on us, she could at least have the decency to tell us!” he exclaimed.

Tom Rivas couldn’t contain his exasperation any longer, slumping to the floor in defeat. He grumbled, “Joining her team was a mistake.

Even if I’d been kicked out during the auditions, it would have been better than this public embarrassment. The net’s buzzing with ridicule about us. Why are we even still here?”

Brucie Armstrong, sitting nearby, flexed his muscular arms beneath his sleeveless shirt.

Tom, but his low spirits were palpable. He remarked, “Unless a miracle

auditions? How do we even stand

group’s spirits dampened, Woodrow

stage meant just for us. We can’t lose hope now. Better to try

looking at him with

two can barely face a camera, and now you’re giving pep

mock, “Thinking of winning, are you? On what grounds? Your shrieking voices? Or those clumsy dance steps that look like

about comedy? Keep your ill-informed comments to yourself,” Franklin defended, quickly escalating the exchange into a full-blown argument between him,

debate, Brucie’s voice cut through the noise, his

point? We shouldn’t even be here. The blame is on whoever picked

tension in the room was palpable as Tom

dragged us here at the crack of dawn and then vanished. I could’ve spent my time better sleeping. And last night, I looked up her company, this ‘Landon Media,‘ I’ve never heard of it! Probably just some dubious front using

his perch on a nearby couch, a young man named Jim Woden, distinguishable by his weary eyes

positions yesterday. What good