A Small Series of Snippets
Weeks had passed, and he just needed a break. A long one. He inwardly sent a silent prayer of thanks to God, any god who was willing to listen to someone like him, for Summer Break. In his freshman year of meeting his friends, Nancy included, he had promised one day that he would take them to his house. It wasn’t necessarily an invite to a party, but as the years went by in college, as everyone got exposed to the drunken feeling of loud music, alcohol, and drugs; as his parents started going to hotels and casinos without him, he didn’t want to waste everyone else’s Summer with a “little get together”. All he asked was that they didn’t break anything. He made his way through the living room of his house, a sea of people throwing their bodies around or at each other made it difficult. But he had to get out. He had to get space. Had to get air. The loud music was hammering at his skull while the smell of everyone’s perfumes and colognes was enough to give him a hacking cough. The glints and glares from the girls’ jewelry and clothing stunned him periodically like the flash grenades they use in COPS. And all he had to wash down the stinging taste of other people's vomit or the sourness of weed in the air was a cup of poorly mixed sangria someone had brought as a party favor. Once he was outside, he immediately closed the glass sliding door and immersed himself in a symphony of crickets playing for a light show of fireflies. The air was warm and blew away the fog of mixed scents in his head with the smell of fresh cut grass. He poured the rest of his sangria out onto the steps and watched as small flies gathered to lap at the drunken pieces of fruit.
