He was drunk, which was probably why he picked me in the first place. Tonight wasn’t about making good choices.
He acted like he didn’t mind my apparent weirdness, but I knew it was just the alcohol and some inane desire to make a reckless middle-finger gesture to the world.
Earlier in the evening, I wondered if he might try to lose me, but now we were actually leaving. We were going home together.
I touched the dampness of his sweat-soaked t-shirt, his flesh still heated from the inside of the club. I could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as we dashed outside to make our great escape.
There were photographers everywhere and I knew tomorrow, the world would know.
And surely, they’d wonder what he was thinking.
Surely, they’d question his taste.
Because who would choose me?
I’m just a blue dinosaur alien head necklace.
#from the treaty of london #in penance for their laziness #each country shall offer up #a male and female athelete between the ages of “are you even legal” and “how old the fuck are you” #at a public ceremony #these athletes shall be delivered to the custody of london #and then transferred to a public dome #where they will fight to the death #until a lone country remains #henceforth and forever more #this pageant will be known as #’the olympics’
When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive