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He was asking us what we do also. Soon all of us were in the dancing mood, and Derek took Michelle by the hand, and led her out onto the dance floor.Michelle was getting really giddy and flirty from the alcohol, as usual, and I guess she didn't mind showing Derek her flirtatious side. They danced for a while to some fast beats while I hung by the bar. They stopped temporarily to come back to the bar and get more drinks, and then went back to the dance floor as the slow beats came on.She looked so beautiful with her small, skinny Asian body slowly grinding up against Derek's tall black muscular frame. There was something about that sight that made me feel very uneasy, but very turned on at the same time.Shortly after their dancing, the party was dying down. It was really late, and we were both really drunk, so Derek suggested that we could sleep over at his apartment. He had an apartment he shared with another guy with 2 bedrooms and a living room. When we got there I was really. I suppose somewhere in this world, there’s an airport. A hollow, shelled husk of what I’d refer to as an airport. Maybe my friends still exist in some way. Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories. Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only contact being the occasional tears of pity they cry down on this ragged planet, and the husks of what once lived here. I can’t remember the last time I left this tent. I lie here, staring up. And up. And up. I’ve become so familiar with the smooth fabric over my head, shielding me from those tears that fall down, full of pity for what I’ve become. The slick, cool feeling as my hand brushes against it…the canvas is turquoise. It loves to look down at me, almost as if asking if I can remember the sky..
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