Ben

I lean against a wall, alternating between watching the stairs for Marcie, sipping some crap drink, and wishing I had a camera to capture this party. The frat guys converted a whole room of their house for dancing. There’s no furniture in here but the DJ booth and a keg by the door to the kitchen. A hundred people in different shades of blue move never quite in unison, like a hive-mind that can’t quite agree. I nod my head like I know the song and check the stairs again.

Still no Marcie. It feels like it’s been ages, but I didn’t check the time when she left. At...