Brooklyn

I had no idea how many shots I shoved down my throat that night.

Or how everybody eventually found their way out of Mom’s house.

All I could remember were flashes, lights, the music, people yelling my name, phones in my face, arms around me, and then Micheal.

Micheal pulling the covers over me, his fingers brushing my cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

“Happy birthday, B,” he’d whispered, like I wasn’t a complete mess.

Such a darling.

Who knew being so lightheaded could actually feel…fun?

I stretched on my bed the next morning, not bothering with my dress lying in the corner, a lazy...