C AN D Y

The music is ver y loud. It’s some remix playlist playing on the speaker s; whoever was in char ge of music has awful taste . I can barely see four feet in front of me , with all the aggressively dancing bodies and no light other than the strobe lights going in, up and through the venue . The lack of AC is apparent as I push through the ter r ibly sweaty crowd. I think while passing by I felt a tug on my hair, which I don’t bother processing, thank god I have a sew-in. With my minidress, emphasis on the mini, stilettos, and long ginger hair, I look like a good chunk of the other people at the club. But I feel different. Lighter. It’s not my hair, it’s a sew-in. I bought it online , I think. The plan was to get a dr ink, but I stopped for the dance circle . How cliche , the guy was break-dancing, doing those little hand spin-jumps and moving all fr antically. Go him. He makes eye contact with me . He smiles. I’m so distr acted by his beautiful smile that when I look up ever ything is gone . I look for him again, he’s gone too.

My head is throbbing Those strobe lights that I just barely took note of are all up in my face , like I’m their tar get I r ush to the bathroom, which is not necessar ily a r ush consider ing the club is packed to the br im I hur r y inside and look for a mir ror that isn’t covered with sticker s or makeup, stepping over think pupils are supposed to be this big all the time . The bathroom is dimly lit, so it could be that. I get a good look at myself. In the cor ner of my mouth, I see what looks like that snow I saw, or didn’t see ear lier. It has to be . It shouldn’t be anything else , not again. The hor r ible remix music feels like it’s tr ying to shatter my br ain. How is it snow if I’m inside? The music’s way too loud. My head feels light. Light like snow.

It’s some sor t of candy kingdom. Twizzler trees, gum drop rocks, candy cane sticks, the whole breakdancing ear lier was back, but different. He was made of chocolate . There were people sur rounding him, jello people . I’m there with them now, dancing and cheer ing them on. It’s snowing, but it feels like Chicago snow, all hard and cr ystally. It doesn’t look like snow. I look up. It’s a cloud with the DJ and his tur ntable on it, the cloud is making the snow. The music fades in, getting louder and louder. Agh.