The Last Sparkle Before Morning Light

My feet are screaming at me, a dull ache that vibrates up my calves and settles in the base of my spine. The silver dress feels less like silk now and more like armor I'm too tired to remove. Around me, the marble lobby is gleaming with an obscene perfection, reflecting chandeliers that look like they're drowning in gold dust.

I lean back against the cold black pillar just for a second, closing my eyes until the light burns away into gray spots. The champagne has worn off somewhere between midnight and now, leaving me feeling hazy and dangerously exposed by this sheer neckline. But then I see him—just standing there in the doorway with that quiet intensity—and suddenly, the exhaustion feels like it's fading.

It’s a strange kind of healing to know you have somewhere else to go once the party ends; someone who will look at this mess and only want to untie me.

Editor: Dusk Till Dawn