dancing at lo fi. girls and boys and men and women and drinks and baby powder dusting the soles of our shoes. slick ground, sweat dripping between bodies. outside the smoke's breaking. inside, people are losing their phones, finding their friends, dancing and grooving and moving and jiving it's on and on and on the DJ spins the rare and old ol' LP's. 48s? What are they called? I go looking for comfort, for human connection. With a hole in my chest, I can't deny the pull of contact. The allure of dancing close to other bodies. It hasn't been long at all but I don't do well with this type of thing. Desperation gives my breath it's quicker pace, shallow. And I sigh. I sigh to myself. With nobody around I remember to take it easy. I forget how.
She used to ask me "What's wrong?" every single time I ever let out even the tiniest of sighs. It's funny how the things that aggravated the heck out of me at the time now feel nostalgic...
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