Every year, the coordinates appear.

No address. No announcement. Just numbers.

Most people ignore them.

The rest start driving before sunrise.

Somewhere in the city, the music is already waiting. Faces feel strangely familiar. Time disappears. By the time the sun comes up, it almost feels like none of it happened.

Later, people will ask where the party was.

You tell them the truth.

"It was never a secret. You just didn't look."

Just still can't sleep with Sleep On It.