‘Let’s go to a hardstyle show,’ she suggested as the final serving of wine was poured at my final tasting at Cooper’s Hawk.
It was my last weekend in Miami. I had the debut of my band the next day. And I already knew that I would, should, and shall devour her.
‘There is not a single thing that draws me there,’ I said.
‘Not even me?’ she flashed me with those saucer eyes.
She was from outer space, an extraterrestrial only satisfied when overstimulated by lack of attention. She got off on watching but never critiquing. The love adjacent to life. The solo passenger rides.
But loneliness stuck to her like reaching for a spoon and grazing a knife. It took six hours of outer-body hallucinations to best her. The night was better than if I’d just taken her then and there, at the bar, her feet dangling because she’s only 4 foot tall.
She cried when she was finally beneath. She felt alone, even while looking at me. No casino, no music, nowhere to dance away to. It was 5 a.m. We were up $200 thanks to her, and we didn’t get any sleep thanks to me.