at night you meet a girl who teaches you to waltz.
you tell her you'd leave the city, if you could stomach running away. forgive yourself for running and you might just come apart, dissipate right there on the patio.
but you don't. so you can't leave until you've won: can walk through the city and one day feel no fear.
outside it's cold and bright. it's simpler than you thought, waltzing. you struggle with the feet anyways, the rave music from indoors probably doesn't help.
S says she wants to find love, because you might only have a year or two left. "this is all going away soon," three girls who think they'll live forever keep repeating, swirling their fingers to point at everything.
you've found a way out. a singular point. somewhere to begin. you feel you're returning to the prescribed path, to a world of people who say nice things about you and drink coffee out of well shaped cups, blue on the outside and white on the inside.
oh this? yeah. all gone soon. they might stay in your apartment, for a night or two.