It’s a shitty place, but it’s crowded.
It smells like sweat more than alcohol. There aren’t lights other than the promotional neon signs. Nothing is clean; the glasses are always smeared and even though you can’t smoke in here, there are cigarette butts on the floor.
But, everyone is here, and that’s why you came.
You’re one of those girls. And when I catch your eye, you’re embarrassed to realize that I know, already; that I can see through you. I smile as your face turns anxious, and then morphs to resolve.
You laugh louder with your friends, suddenly more engaged. You shift closer to them. It’s like I can read your mind: I can’t single you out if you are part of the group. I wouldn’t dare.
Your friends order more drinks and you gratefully gulp yours down. I’m not sure if you see the lipstick stain on the rim from the previous user, but I do. You make such a show of ignoring me.
I wait, patiently.
I see you try to refuse the next drink, but your friends urge you on. They can’t understand why you would want to remain sober, why you might need to have your guard up. You drink it, against your will, trying to blend in. I see your lips form a pout as you take your first sip.
You begin to squirm in your seat.
Some of your friends try to convince you to dance. You won’t. You can’t. Not with my eyes on you.Read more
I fucking love this picture.