She finds it difficult to breathe in the steep stairway that leads to the bathroom. It is lit, but she's night blind, there is the pulse of the drums and the bass in the soles of her feet, through her heels.
Someone knocks into her, sloshing; sloshed. "Hey, hello?
Are you there?
A hand, reaching
two hands, holding. Tugging, caressing. (This isn't sexual)
It is a flow
The thud up, of breath in his gut, under a halogen bulb, bloody summer night air, slick un-ruptured skin and a gasp, tears
Crocodile tears pero verdadero y la realidad es que todos pueden trabajar los mismos como son posibles.