Jorge...: Tierry - Chovendo Na Minha Bochecha Part.

He signaled the waiter for another round. As the cold liquid hit the glass, a familiar melody drifted from the jukebox in the corner—that unmistakable swing of Tierry mixed with the soulful, gravelly depth of Jorge. It was "Chovendo na Minha Bochecha."

The neon sign of the roadside bar flickered, casting a bruised purple light over the empty bottles on the table. Outside, the Sertão heat had finally broken, replaced by a sudden, violent downpour. Tierry - Chovendo na Minha Bochecha part. Jorge...

He sat alone, staring at his phone. The screen was dark, but he could still see the ghost of the last message he’d sent: “Are you really not coming?” No reply. He signaled the waiter for another round