I'm not sure, at the beginning, what marks the start of a good evening versus a bad one. Do the good ones start with a particular sign, like someone invites you in for a drink and it's not too cold and not too hot but just right for a drink? Do the bad ones start with you wanting to go somewhere but can't for no good reason but a reason nonetheless?
She said the music was awful, like it was the music who made it chilly outside or the people bland and uninteresting or the dog pee on the carpet. The music was just one more thing. Just one more idiotic guy saying one more idiotic line that has some sort of clever overused rhyme in it that he heard on TV, just one more group of people that I don't belong in, just one more person begging me to loosen up.
I don't care to loosen up, thanks. I'm wound this tight because I want to be. Losing control is an escape for you and a fall for me, one long endless plummet into no one knows what. Bitter? Whatever. I'm as happy as I need to be.
Their voices blend together outside my window, one big happy tipsy voice growing into a drunken tumultuous roar. Inside my window is me, one somber sober voice that doesn't say anything at all.
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