Sinphony: A collection
The club is all pressure and heat. There is no space to breathe, no space to think.
Bodies move like one living thing, grinding and swaying in the dark, the bass so loud it turns my bones into vibration. Someone’s shoulder hits mine, a hand brushes my waist, and I don’t even look back.
That’s how it is in here, everyone packed too close, everyone pretending they’re alone inside the crowd.
I move with it anyway. I always do.
My hips swerve to the rhythm without permission, my drink long gone… somewhere between the lights and the noise.
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