It was one of those parties where you assume that everyone else is having a better time than you are. I could smell the same smoke as everyone else, taste the same drinks and hear the same music, but I didn’t have that thing my friend Dasha likes to call “Inner-outer”, which to my knowledge means being alert of the vibe of the party and then matching it. At this time, I was “inner-inner”, which means that I knew everyone else’s vibe, but my own was slightly off. I think it may have had to do with the clothing I wore. My dress was found in my mother’s closet, but if anyone asked I had to say it was “vintage”. It was a blackish-purplish color, pretty sheer and with some nice pleating on the bottom. But the top was too big and the shoulder straps kept falling off, so I had to readjust constantly or just pretend that it was meant to have hanging straps. I wanted to do the latter, but it was quite uncomfortable, so I kept forgetting that I was supposed to have them hanging, nonchalantly cool. I would accidentally hike them up again and immediately feel like an outsider.
I couldn’t think of anything to do because there was this girl from my school talking to me but she was very drunk and her eyeballs kept sliding off me and into different directions, so I thought it wouldn’t be any harm if I walked away. Everyone at the party just talked and talked; there were so many words in so many different combinations but they all seemed to say the same clattering, bright things. Everything about the night outside was still and soft, deep and plush, dark and inconspicuous and I wanted to be a part of it. I touched the window.
“Are you trying to escape?” said a voice, and I nearly leapt away because I had thought I was alone in my mind. It was a boy who spoke to me, and he had a voice of glass. He also touched the window, and my fingers jumped back.
“I don’t know. I would rather be outside than here I think.”
“I think I would be too. These people are always the same, I feel. And I’ve never met any of them before, which says something.” He smiled.
“Would you like to walk outside with me?” I chanced.
His eyes grew bluer. “I’m leaving now. But I’m sure I’ll see you in the snow at some point.” He walked away, and the crush of people around him grew, obfuscating.
Strange encounters are the best, especially when they are made of glass, I imagined I said.
My friend Dasha walked over to me, “Who was that you were talking to?”
I couldn’t think of what had been said, only the ringing quality of his voice. “The one who spoke the least” I replied. I knew that the stars outside were obstructed from our view, but I also knew they persisted.
I couldn’t think of anything to do because there was this girl from my school talking to me but she was very drunk and her eyeballs kept sliding off me and into different directions, so I thought it wouldn’t be any harm if I walked away. Everyone at the party just talked and talked; there were so many words in so many different combinations but they all seemed to say the same clattering, bright things. Everything about the night outside was still and soft, deep and plush, dark and inconspicuous and I wanted to be a part of it. I touched the window.
“Are you trying to escape?” said a voice, and I nearly leapt away because I had thought I was alone in my mind. It was a boy who spoke to me, and he had a voice of glass. He also touched the window, and my fingers jumped back.
“I don’t know. I would rather be outside than here I think.”
“I think I would be too. These people are always the same, I feel. And I’ve never met any of them before, which says something.” He smiled.
“Would you like to walk outside with me?” I chanced.
His eyes grew bluer. “I’m leaving now. But I’m sure I’ll see you in the snow at some point.” He walked away, and the crush of people around him grew, obfuscating.
Strange encounters are the best, especially when they are made of glass, I imagined I said.
My friend Dasha walked over to me, “Who was that you were talking to?”
I couldn’t think of what had been said, only the ringing quality of his voice. “The one who spoke the least” I replied. I knew that the stars outside were obstructed from our view, but I also knew they persisted.
Photo, FeavrishPhotography
