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a leather booth in the corner of a club.

a leather booth in the corner of a club.

Sweat, cologne and floor dried liquor consumed my nose.
The strobe lights pounded my pupils, contracting and expressing in every strobe.
My arms rest against the formerly sticky counter as a I wait my turn to inebriate.
Our booth hadn’t changed a bit.

Nestled in the corner of the room, as if time had stagnated.
A place where everything changed.
A place where everything began.
A place I longed for when it all went bad.

The night we met I sat across on the barstool, half human-half rum.
Friends teased, we smiled, we exchanged numbers.
Prior to tonight, I had carefully coursed and plotted life in order to avoid this place.
However, in this moment all I can do is smile.

Two kids barely aware to the reality that encompassed them.
The priority was joy, at the expense of every other emotion.
After it was all over, I drove home from your house through tears remembering that booth.
Over the span of many moons, the pain has blossomed to fondness.

“Hey, sorry, I’ll take a double rum and coke spiced please – thank you”