She spoke of things that had no meaning to any of us. The high-pitched voice and the flailing arms were almost hypnotizing. I could feel my mind melting and dripping down my spine, forming a puddle at my feet. I sipped my drink. Someone nodded. Another forced a laugh. She continued. Who knew one could say the word "like" more than seventeen times in one sentence? The music was loud; almost loud enough to drown her out, but not quite. Every so often, some bass would make her words disappear. I looked out of our circle and longed to be sitting in the green chair. If I moved, there was a possibility I would disturb the puddle of brain.

Trapped.

I need to use the bathroom. Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Sorry to interrupt... Man! I gotta pee. I'll be right back. My lips would not utter the words I wanted to say. I wished I really did have to go. I sipped my drink. Her words weren't making any sense. Just streams of phonemes pouring out of her mouth. I felt fidgety. Staring into the bottom of the red plastic cup, I could see my drink was almost finished. I needed something to do with my hands. Something to put in my mouth so I didn't have to speak.

Excuse me, I'm just gonna get another drink. Oops! I'm all outta booze, be right back. I'm getting some punch, anyone want anything? No. That would mean I'd have to return. Damn. The final sip was so much smaller than it should have been. A drop or two.

A hand grabbed my wrist and pulled. I didn't resist. A weak smile for the storyteller and the captive audience. Wherever I was going, I didn't have to feign interest. His hand was warm and strong. He led me up the stairs, which were crowded with people and hard to navigate. I followed him into a dimly lit room wherein a couple was attempting to undress each other. They didn't notice us. He climbed out the window and I followed. The cool darkness of the night was a surprise; so different from the light and sound and heat inside the house. We walked sideways on the ledge and hoisted ourselves up on the drainpipe.

We climbed to a flat part of the roof. This was our roof. Our little secret part of the universe. We lay down, right ears together, my head touching his shoulder and his mine. Our thoughts flow freely between us this way, without the inaccuracies of speech intercepting. I took a deep breath. My head was spinning from the climb and the alcohol and the sudden lack of noise. I could feel the vibrations of the bass on my back.

"Thank you."

"I could see your brain melting."

"Do you think she saw it?"

"She doesn't see anything."

"Who invited her?"

"I'm not sure."

Silence. And not at all awkward.

We stared up at the sky, which was clear and full of stars. Someday the aliens will visit our roof. I shut my eyes and listened. Someone shrieked inside the house. A car drove by. He ignited a lighter and lit a cigarette. It crackled very softly with the inhalation. I opened my eyes and watched the gray-white smoke swirl up against the black sky and disappear slowly into nothingness. It was beautiful.

I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to twirl in the sky and when the dance was over, to become one with the moonlight. I wondered if the photons comprising the moonlight wished to be me, lying on a rooftop next to a man smoking a cigarette. Could be this existence is really preferable to another. If only one could sample the existences before locking into humanness or particlehood.

The music stopped below. It was cold and silent.