She arrives at her cousin's party, wiping clammy hands on her jeans.
Please, not like the last time. Memories surface and settle like pond slime. Her eyes
scan for danger. At the last party, she'd found herself trapped in a socially-at-ease group, forced to interact for hours. The pretence had been exhausting.
She breathes out. At least the darkness of this venue is reassuring. It might help keep
her inconspicuous.
She meanders between the guests, glass of wine in hand. A man starts a conversation.
Soon, others join the group. She listens without hearing before excusing herself to get another drink.
The beat of the music lures her to the dance floor. On impulse, she steps on and is
sucked into a pulsating throng. Running her hand through her hair, she closes her eyes and surrenders to the beat.
She’s found her place for the night. Alone, with others.
David Lowis is a flash fiction writer from Surrey, England.
This story was shortlisted in the January 25 Monthly Micro Competition.