It was hot in that dark room, as hot as the blazing sun that weaves itself underneath my skin so that it glows like the translucent jellyfish I see once in a while in the clear waters of the ocean. But this room was more familiar than those jellyfish. I felt I had traveled back in time to the same spot we were last summer, sitting on the black speaker that vibrated through our whole bodies, moving to the beat of an electronic song I don’t know the name of. And I wanted to stay in that moment because I knew that tomorrow would be different. I knew that tomorrow when I saw him I would close my eyes and think of that night when we danced in the dark room and kissed under the starlit sky, the sky that covers us at night so we can’t see anything and it should be horrifying but it isn’t. And I would think of how childish we always acted. We needed a person to make us feel whole, a kiss that would justify our reason for having lips, waists that were meant to be held and tickled and pinched, teeth to smile and to lick when we laughed between kisses, necks to grab onto when we didn’t know what else to touch. We loved all corners of each other, filling each so that they could be used. But I couldn’t think this clearly that night in the dark room when we were crowded by neon lights and smoke and cigarettes and the laughter of five girls stumbling down the cobblestoned streets that overlook the black river water. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to fall down. Would I die as soon as I hit the water? Or perhaps I would die on my way down, hitting a sharp rock or a tree. Or maybe I wouldn’t die, and I would float down the river to the yellow bridge I always drive over, where I can see small brown boys bathing in the fresh water surrounded by curious lurking alligators that hide beneath the surface. Other times when I walk down the cobblestoned streets I think of getting married with everyone I love and we’ll talk about our memories here at 3 a.m. when we danced and laughed and cried and lived because that’s all we knew. We knew that we needed to live to breathe and breathe to live but that they were both very different and it was harder to live than to breathe and sometimes we would sit on the steps of the church and cry because living was so hard and then it was hard to breathe while we were sobbing, while tears streamed down our faces into our mouths and we were choking.