She gave me her hips. Mine did their sway and we knew how to be sexy. Her hair was always red and I was blonde, the fake kind. We danced like we were equal, partly for my boyfriend. He was a bouncer.
We’d gotten matching tattoos the night before, had taken off the bandage. We figured it was dumb, but you’re allowed to be dumb once, and it’s good to be reminded. We liked to have fun.
In the bar, my boyfriend wasn’t really a boyfriend, though he was the closest thing to a boyfriend. She was indifferent about him. I’d slept with him enough to know he was worth spending time with.
There was the music, and oh, up there, here was my friend. I loved her like my sister. I wanted to lie in bed with her like I used to with my sister. I wanted to smell her hair. We’d told each other secrets. We used to wake up tangled.
The music was unsteady. She pulled me in, then kissed me. I looked down on my boyfriend. He seemed to admire us.
We were there, on the floor, doing it. The music was boom-boom-booming into the heart of me.
In its third year, The March Micro Marathon will be, as usual, a prompt-a-day whirlwind for 24 days. You’ll exchange drafts of micro fiction, non-fiction, and prose poetry in small groups and gather for a series of online events (all recorded for participants unable to attend live). We’ll finish with 3 competitions, and participants who are not already in SmokeLong Fitness will be invited to workshop with SmokeLong Fitness until the end of April!