I saved that bottle, it's now ten years aged.

It's too claustrophobic in here.

I wanted out. Why did I come here in the first place? I don't know anybody. It's too hot, moist; it smells like beer and pot smoke. The music was too loud, thumping in my chest. Stupid new pop music, too. I hate this party. I wove my way through the crowds, bumping into people and holding my breath.

The doors, there they were. I pushed them open and breathed deeply, savoring the sharp, cold air. I was alone, finally. She was at my fingertips now, at least I imagined her so. Goosebumps rose on my skin, my arms bare. I could almost see her now, with faded scars and fingernails painted blue.