Fireball and green tea shots at New York City bars on a Sunday Night. We come across a dingy grungy punk bar. Stickers adorn dark walls, leather jacket locals, four dollar “Ass Juice” special, 80’s porn on overhead TVs, a broken condom dispensary spilling into my purse. Nails painted pink, fingers adorned with rings balled into a fist punching hard at the Boxing Punch Arcade Game. My social battery dwindles low so I sit on a stool at a Pacman arcade game, watching my best friend play pool, while I text the boy I like. Momentary rest ended quickly— another round of shots made me leap from my chair, buzzed by butterflies and liquor We stay until 3 am, singing with the bartender who put on Disney songs until closing. I take my best friend by the hands and we spin around and around to “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” from Hercules. On the uber ride home, my best friend sleeps on my shoulder, text notifications popping up on my phone. My eyelids flutter closed, but I am wide awake, still stuck in my girlish stupor.
Oh I love this. “I take my best friend by the hands
and we spin around and around
to “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” from Hercules.” — such a lovely image. Your imagrey captures these moments so well.