We don’t want to be here, and people are starting to notice. We try not to bunch our faces up. But our lips work into sneers and our eyes start scanning for little things to pick at. If only there was more beer and better music we think, at the same time, no need to look over for approval.
Then we think maybe we’re necessary. If we weren’t here, this wall behind us would fall. It would slam on the other partygoers. Crushing them. Squirting blood and brains and guts across the tastefully decorated apartment.
It’s different now. We know.