Bodies

Bodies. Everywhere she looked there were bodies. Some she recognized. Some she didn’t. The music was pumping loudly. It reverberated through her bones, through her veins. She could smell the alcohol in the air. She could feel the warmth, the electricity. The party was throbbing. And she couldn’t enjoy it.

Eleanor was drunk. She danced around the room, moving her body along with all the others around here. No one was looking at her. No one could see her frustration, her rage, her sadness. She didn’t even know why she couldn’t enjoy the party. She was just going through one of her many mood swings. One moment she was exhilarated, and the next she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep through the week, the month, the year. This year she had decided was going to be better. As always. She wanted to work harder this time, work through everything. And she would. But all of that meant she had to be sociable, and go to parties, and enjoy them.

The music was pumping in her ears. She closed her eyes and just moved along with it. She felt the music as it invaded her fibers. She danced, and twirled, and spun, and tapped, and then someone caught her.

Eleanor didn’t even open her eyes. Her face simply broke into a precious smile as her dance partner moved to the beat. They spun and twirled together. They moved their feet in wonderfully synchronized maneuvers around the apartment. The songs faded and overlapped and continued until dawn shyly started to crawl from behind the other buildings.

Her partner’s words were soft in her ears, her eyes still closed, “Enjoy you 2018, little ballerina.”