TWO FLASHES – Maya Halilovic

Posted: November 17, 2012 in Fiction, Flash
Tags: , , , ,

I am a visitor. I am not permanent.
We exist somewhere between the black flood of Friday nights, and the soft, hollow light of early Saturday mornings. We exist in the spaces between fingers, clenched white around bottlenecks. Under each other’s tongues. In the backs of dirty clubs, we search for something more than what just is.
Above me looms a dagger, swaying reminders of past has-beens.
We don’t spend a moment apart, we dive into the escapism we find in the other. Being apart is like coming up for air and realizing how far from shore you’ve drifted.
So we stay. Nestled in necks, finding the perfect indent in pillows to rest our heads.

With one hand clasped around a cold glass of gin, I watch bodies move in and out in a sort of strangled unison whilst the lights over us blink on and off to the music. Everything here is at a distance, people speak without hearing, and I smile politely, offering them canned laughter for their worries. Drink enough, and it all turns into white noise, a jovial mass of bodies jumping and grinding against every other. Amongst it all I can’t help but to think of mass burials and how deep I’d need to dig.
A girl I know is outside throwing up, or at least I think she is. Her head’s cocked to the side, and she tries to shield her face, hunching over her knees in the corner of the outside balcony. I sort of know her, but then, I sort of know everyone. We take her outside, and for the fourth time tonight I pray you’re not around.
In my mind, you’re rounding every corner.

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