It’s after midnight and the world is a little upside down and my breath has some kick to it.
I’m being pressed up against something and my legs are around someones hips.
His hands are strong and sturdy but his breath tastes like mine so I know he’s gone just like me. I think I’m laughing at something, suggesting something in his ear. He throws his head back and laughs and I know just why we’re together.
Together we go off to a store, hand in hand like we’re not strangers, and he speaks because somehow he comes off as though sober and if I talk I can barely understand myself.
We’re running and laughing and I can feel the air twist in my hair like ribbons. My heels click on the hard ground and his black jacket looks shiny in the streetlights. I think we must look like runaways.
I’m not sure where we are and he gives me a bottle to shake. We paint whatever wall we’ve come across and I don’t know what I expected from him, probably nothing in my state of mind, but he makes this gorgeous black rose and all I made was a pathetic version of a cigarette.
He hands me a pack he had with him and takes out a lighter.
I kiss him instead. It wasn’t like before, either. This one actually feels like something. It feels wet. But I think that’s because I’m crying.
I stick my hand down his pants and I let him push my dress up.
I stare at the rose and when I look back to him, our eyes connect and somehow it’s more than just sex. It’s 3 a.m. and I didn’t know I could fall in love with a stranger.
We fell asleep under a clouded sky with hardly a star shining and we wake up to freezing air and a rising sun.
He smiles at me and somehow we’re having coffee, exchanging the names we’ve forgotten and numbers we didn’t plan on giving out.
I take him home and we shower and he stays.
They say nothing good happens after midnight, but then again, they also say never say never. So I think I’ll stick to that.