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 ^{(it's beta!)}

She dances and I watch. Her strawberry blonde pig tails bounce alluringly, while her ear bud headphones stay somehow lodged in peach colored lobes. Her round face is angelic. Her closed blue eyelids conceal grey eyes, but now I see only long black lashes. She bites her lower lip as if the music is arousing her and she needs someone...now. The deep black licorice color of her lips is left unperturbed by the assault. The clash against the purity of the rest of her skin is not wasted on me. Her pink (and entirely too short) shirt is stretched tight over her breasts, which only bounce ever so slightly with her gyrations. Her hips clad in bell bottomed blue jeans sway in that hypnotic fashion that puts me all too deeply into a trance.

But even as I catch myself glaring at the beauty, I'm forced to tilt my head forward and down slightly. Blink for a long moment as I chuckle at my own incompetence.

I step outside onto the porch for a moment and light a cigarette as I think about where I am. This is Lawrence Kansas, in front of some dead nondescript club. I am too busy looking cool to acknowledge just how lonesome I am. A cool wind blows by in the early spring. I hug my trench coat closer until it passes.

I recall the melody of what was playing in the girls headphones. It's a familiar song. She’s listening to a trance number and one of the good ones at that. One of those songs that make me want to just close my eyes and float for eternity in a rainbowy void, taking full advantage of the "ignorance is bliss" theorem.

A long drag finishes off the cigarette. I recall another effect of those songs. If you put them on repeat, and don't speak to anyone, and get lost in it until you actually feel like you're really floating in that rainbowy void, you suddenly don't care about anything as well. Death seems like not only a viable option, but perhaps a fun one. The silence after the song ends is calming, and allows one to rationally consider the advantages to self destruction.

I go back inside. She's still dancing. From 7 feet I can hear it's the same melody. Her eyes are still closed. She isn't dancing as actively now, as much as she's rhythmically swaying. I lean in slowly and press my lips to hers. She yields. Her eyes flutter so that I can't tell whether they're open or closed.

My eyes open to find a tall tan man with a thin face and goatee staring only moments from my face. In those eyes, I see my reflection and…

"Thank you" she whispers. She takes her left ear bud out and knowingly slides it into my ear. The song is clear. She leans in and says into the right ear "You know what it is, how it sounds. Take me home. Show me how it feels."

"You want another form of release is all. One is just like the other on a base level. Simply a matter of permanency and intensity." I reply. I take her in my arms and whisper into her right ear "Lets go."

As the door closed behind us, the song ended, and began again.