The furniture is secondhand, bought at the great price of nothing. It fills the blank space of my apartment with the kind of character that turns a house into a home. I've collected bits and bobbles, knickknacks that to the uninformed seem useless, though they are anything but. A broken music box that hides a recorder, an antique mirror, clouded, but serviceable enough that I can see the door from anywhere in the apartment; even a wooden wind chime to hang over one the windows. All of them insignificant by themselves, but together a mass of noise making traps and secret keepers.
Call me paranoid.
The cupboards of my kitchenette hide more than a few sharp objects and I have a nice-sized cast-iron frying pan sitting innocently on my double stovetop. The fridge is tiny and will only hold a couple days worth of groceries, so I bought a small chest freezer and shoved it behind the love seat. The bed and bathroom just around the corner completes the place, and while not the most glamorous of layouts, it is the most open and will hopefully lend the illusion of space. I'm happy with how it all turned out and decide that, maybe, I can spend a night out on the town.
I don't dress up. It's freezing outside now and with the sun due to set in an hour or so, the temperature's not going to get any better. Just jeans and a comfy t-shirt under my coat; add warm boots and a headband for my ears and I'm all set.
I make my way to the metro and from there to Amusement Mile. The dance club I choose is already in full swing, laughter and music streaming out of the place like it's about to burst from the seams. I'm smiling as I slip past the bouncers, pulling off my cumbersome jacket and shoving my snow apparel in a little used corner by the back entrance.
I'd never liked these venues. They were never fun, before. Now though? It was like being alive again. High on adrenaline, blood pumping to the beat; music so loud you can't hear yourself think. It didn't matter that people moved and danced around me without realizing I was there; each heated brush and teasing sway was like fire on my skin. Here, I could pretend that the cute Greek guy at the bar was talking to me, or that the nod of acknowledgment from that pretty little chick in the corner was actually for me. It was riveting to be surrounded by so much energy, to know that all anybody cared about was loosening themselves for a few hours.
It was nice.
Until I feel hands on my hips.
