Through the country music blasting in the corners of the room, the basketball games soundless underneath, and the mounds of cookie-cutter women piled in semi-circles around wooden posts, I floated to the bathroom in laquered red boots and faded blue jeans. I was soaking in that feeling of weightlessness, that feeling of knowing that no matter what happened the next few seconds, you will not feel any pain, the feeling of numbness and pure sensuality pulsating through your lips. I was living in the moment of being drunk.
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make out with the loner at the end of the bar, biting his green straw that stuck out of his clear drink. I wondered for a second what he would do if I grabbed the collar and just had fun. I wondered what my parents would do who were watching me make my way past the bar and pool table.
The noise had faded into one sound: a haze of laughs and glasses distintergrating with every step. I pick up my drink, lick the edge of the thick glass, taste the bitter sweetness of the gin and tonic and swallow every second of conversation between each convulsing couple. In the morning, I knew the rose-colored film would dissolve and my red boots would be scuffed.
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make out with the loner at the end of the bar, biting his green straw that stuck out of his clear drink. I wondered for a second what he would do if I grabbed the collar and just had fun. I wondered what my parents would do who were watching me make my way past the bar and pool table.
The noise had faded into one sound: a haze of laughs and glasses distintergrating with every step. I pick up my drink, lick the edge of the thick glass, taste the bitter sweetness of the gin and tonic and swallow every second of conversation between each convulsing couple. In the morning, I knew the rose-colored film would dissolve and my red boots would be scuffed.
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I must say, a vision of loveliness you sound in your red boots.