Pet Sounds

Some sort of scribble on my wrist; a book title, a reminder of inspiration in times of need, I wash my hands carefully so as not to lose it. The happy hour champagne prices quickly run away with us and by the time we leave the bar, I am wasted. Adults around me keep their walks straight; I adore them already and try to keep up. By the time we reach the next bar, I am falling over myself and have to hold on to my phone to stay standing. A calm voice comes across the line, walks me home.

I reach a quiet apartment, the world's spinning slows, and I regret having had to leave the party when the night was just beginning to sparkle. Remind myself that the fall is long and the bars will remain, the people within. Voices of the evening remind me that time is magic, the world beautiful. I smile in recollection, sleep better than I have in weeks.