Bubbles

new years a couple of years ago. -enjoy-

 

The room was spinning; alight with colors. And people. And sounds. And textures that weren’t quite real. High heels and leather belts and starch and crab dip and glitter. Everything spinning and blurring and culminating in to a mass of existence. Sweat formed on my neck, hidden under my less-then-golden-locks. The floor and walls were vibrating with anticipation or a weak foundation. All around me people were moving; generating heat from underneath their black attire. A voice is heard over the noise. “Less then a minute,’ it says from its unknown location.

A minute? To what? I stood there, a central point in the chaos zone. And then, “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.” The vibrations continued; increasing. “Six. Five. Four.” Liquids spilt forth from colored glass. The music stopped. “Three. Two.” Crystal chalices were raised to new heights. “One.”

Silence. Paper frozen in air like napalm; waiting to descend upon the masses. Bodies stopped in aerial movements. Arms and legs and fingers fixed in spasmodic formations.

I look down at my own two hands. A glass of sweet golden bubbles balances between my curled digits. The fabric surrounding my not-quite-thin-enough body is a color darker then most. Below my delicate feet stand two stilts holding me up. And I know in my stomach, as one would know a lover, that above where my hopeful eyes can reach are glitter and feathers and festive feelings. Just like the ones that float above my head, thrown by now unmoving hands.

My eyes returned to the bubbles at my finger tips. I raised the glass and looked at the unchanging masses. And I saw someone; unfrozen and wonderful. We stood rigid; unmoving eyes. I raised my glass to his with the tickle of a smile playing upon my lips.

“Happy new year!” the rooms screamed as the regained themselves. “Happy new year,” we both whispered to ourselves and the other across the room as we drank the bubbles that made us giggle.  Our eyes met once more and we smiled; whole and real. We smiled.

Author's Note

too much imagery?

Reviews

[Pinky]

no... i dont think so i think imagery is a good thing!!! Next the reader fell like they r really there.... good job!