He swore the colors were more vivid in swelling, brassy tones of muted trumpets and swooning reed sections. He can almost make out a hand, no, an invitation to dance amidst the bright, mixolydian plinks of a piano, like the reverberating circles surrounding a leaf caught by a still pond. He is closer to remembering his own smile: the flash of enamel, the relieved laughter, the bottom mush of sugar at the end of an over sweetened cup of coffee.
But the needle skips.
And then he recalls, now, sunflower walls and gray beaches and the rattling of ice against a plastic cup. It is the glory of 2019, how could he forget anything as golden as that? That was on a , when and him went because he forgot his and had to . So uncharacteristically careless of him. How he relished the shock of salty blue at his feet. How he fancied himself a philosopher at the sight of so many stars, usually invisible under the light pollution of the city. That day would live in his memories eternally.
Better the beach than the ballroom. One-two-three, one-two-three, of course he knew how to count to three. His dance instructor, Clara, was the kind of authoritarian that polished her silverware, spanked her kids, insisted on saying “you’re welcome” instead of “no problem”. And not to mention all the yelling. Two-six-eleven, five-golf ball-birdie, of course he knew how to count to seven. He didn’t understand how his dance instructor, Marie, could yell so much at him without contracting laryngitis. Every step forward seemed to be two backwards.
After his lesson, he takes his dance partner out for ice cream. She owes him, for stepping on his toes so much. They go down to the bowling alley to knock pins and she claims to let him win. As if. She’s as good at ping pong as she is at dancing, and the vending machine root beer she owed you is proof of that. But that’s why those two are lab partners—so he can shine all the more brighter at literature essays.
The big band stops playing.
He has a bad habit of gripping his pencil too hard, grinding his teeth at night, not saying goodbye at the end of phone calls. That’s the way the river flows, sometimes. Friends have stopped asking why he doesn’t text back. The collection of empty bottles grows. Even so, he heard there was a new movie adaptation of a Stephen King book coming out next month, so he told his dance instructor, Alfred, that he has a fever so he can see it all by himself. His dance instructor, Sierra, has always been a hypochondriac, so of course he’s allowed to ditch without a second thought. It is the glory of 2017, how could he forget anything as golden as that?
Momentous is the aperture car horn of thinking which has spray on the underside. Which is not. Won’t she come along if he asked? It’s written green from the can to where afterwards since far. That is well, for twilight family has to my in the right now life. He missed her so much. Mysterious way of getting me your feelings mind it. Why didn’t she visit? The people who have you and you have a good time to be.
“You’re dying.”
He tells the doctor he wants to call her before he’s gone, but he shakes his head. The doctor tells him what the day he should take it to the next time for that then it is.
He can hear the music so loud when it’s dark.