It’s an old safe with cracked paint along the sharp edges of faded metal. The door hangs open where the box is able to inhale the last bit of summer air it’ll see for the next five years. I pace before an open window. The breeze is hot, just as the sun is as it begs to set...
When we reach a pause in the crowd, a place where we have just enough room to dance, she spins on her foot to face me. I grab her by the waist as her arms fall to my shoulders. She speaks, but I can’t hear her over the chorus of techno beats. And I’ve never been good at reading lips. But she does...