Someone spilled his drink on my carpet. The lady on the couch just flicked her unfinished cigarette towards my television. My speakers sounded broken with the electronic track playing at maximum volume. My ears are filled with foreign laughter and loud whispers. There are 50 bodies dancing in my living room—grinding their figures against somebody else’s.
I gulped my drink and the alcohol burned my throat. I coughed and someone patted my neck. “You’ll get used to it.”
I excused myself and headed to the restroom. When I opened the door, two figures were devouring each other’s lips. I closed the door and went to my parents’ bedroom. The scent of vanilla wafted through the air; this was the only space untouched.
The cool touch of the water upon my skin brought back my lost senses. I splashed a handful on my heated face before I gazed in the mirror. I looked different; perhaps a grown-up stranger questioning his values than being contented living a sordid life. My parents were gone for the weekend. I was the bullied nerd at school. It was just a perfect plan.
My phone vibrated and somebody texted me an incomplete address. I heard a door close; I dried my face and strode back to the party. The stink and garbage lingered in my house.
WORD COUNT: 223
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