“Is this really it?” I thought as I watched the bodies moving around in ridiculous dance movement. The air was thick with smoke and pulsating noises. Snorts and over exaggerated laughs filled my ears, making them hurt, but giving me the ability to avoid conversations with people barely able to stand.

I stood against a wall and felt a warm body press itself far too close to mine. I looked up and met the gaze of a guy with the type of facial hair that was only there to prove he could actually grow it. He slowly let his fingertips graze my shoulder as his back turned, blocking my view from the rest of the room. The smell radiating from his mouth made my face automatically give a look of disgust that he didn’t seem to notice because his eyes never seemed to completely match mine. They followed a pattern everywhere else over my body but never seemed to rest on my face. “Does he think I’m stupid?” I thought as I remembered the small brunette with curls in her hair that had been clinging to him all night. I edged away breaking the prison he had made for me with his arms.

I felt him tug on my shirt as I walked away but his motivation to keep me close disappeared quickly as I easily pulled away and continued on. Desire. That was the word of the night, it was what he and all the other people in this moment so desperately wanted to feel. Desire by anyone, as long as it was a warm touch and a comforting voice. I was exactly like all of them. I wrapped an arm across to my bare shoulder as I felt the desire of my heart desperately trying to escape.

As I made my way towards the small opening where fresh air was coming in I tightened my hand into fist as I moved between people. I may have had the same reasons for coming as everyone else but I was still trying to fight my inner demon from escaping. Once I stepped outside I sighed and let my breath out for the first time all night.  The chill of the season was setting in so I wrapped my sweater a little tighter around the skin I’d chosen to expose that night. I took a long, drawn out drink from the cup in my hand, trying desperately to figure out where the rest of my night was headed.

I was about to turn and go back inside, because surrounding myself with strangers seemed more appealing than the quietness of home, when I noticed a figure sitting to my right. He was seated on a lawn chair that was ready to collapse and held a lone cigarette in his hand. The shadows from the trees had hidden him from my view and I wondered how long he’d been sitting there. Something grounded me to where I stood and I began to watch him from the corner of my eye as I took another, shorter drink. It seemed like seconds, minutes, hours may have passed and never once did he bring the cigarette to meet his pursed lips.

Then, out of darkness, his words slicing through the cold of the night, he spoke, “These are the best years of your life.” I jumped slightly at his husky voice and turned my whole body to face him as his words reached my cold ears. Then he tossed the barely used cigarette  from his fingertips and crushed it with his heel, all in one quick motion. A stillness kept the rest of his body and face eerily stuck in the same place, teetering on the unstable chair.

I finally peeled my water filled eyes away from him and looked down at my cup, only to watch a small ripple fill my drink and then disappear.