I held her hand above her head while she twirled in the middle of the bar. The mama had fallen asleep at the far end while her two elderly customers traded pastimes between their drinks and watching our addled dance. 

Her eyes reflected the filament of the bulbs with a dull glow.

“How should I relax with the thought of you?” 

Her words, aimed at my heart, were dulled by drink and infatuation. My tired legs retreated from our dance to my chair, where I watched her clap to the beat of the song and kick her stockinged legs to the rhythm. Her thin legs. 

The karaoke machine began to quiet with the end of the song. Its lights dying out as she slowly mimicked its silent demise. Immobile, she seemed half the woman. She swayed on numb legs to me, falling against my chest in tears while gripping the collar of my jacket. The floor was again stained with salt rain. Fitting in with debased infatuation. 

“It could never end with just us two.”

I kissed her again. 

“If you could meet a hundred people, or more, would I still be beautiful?” 

The door opened as a new customer came in and awoke the mama. Her eyes fell on the girl and she commanded her worker to serve drinks to the new man. She moved with tactility, with brevity. Her steps assured and her pace steady. She even smiled at them, laughing at their jokes and bashfully filling her cheeks with blood when they complimented her. 

“Death is just another simple dream.” She had whispered to me before. 

I would return to her. I would answer her correctly.