my clothing is plastered to my frame like new skin, as the sun shamelessly imposes it's rays upon me. i watch the heat rise from the pavement as sweat haphazardly drips down from the top of my lip to my chin. i recall previous encounters with similar pavements that i'd once closely inspected when i'd felt to dizzy to look at far more complex structures surrounding me. i distance myself from the memory for a second until i am paralyzed by the familiarity of the smell of opened beers and cigarettes and nearby ocean. I then hear the laughter, and music, and bottles. and cups, slamming at a distance. I hear pool sticks clinking pool balls and the toilets flushing. i hear chairs dragging and feet shuffling and halfway conversations. i suddenly am there reworked and rewound in a different time. i see peyton in cowboy boots and her blue high waist skirt holding a drink to her mouth as she says something unflattering to creyton. i see astarte leaning over the bar talking to sasha. i see the booth in front of me to the direct left of that bar and then i see them and him and worry that the closeness of the memory will never dissipate and i want to start again and see him but then look past him and back at my drink then leave.