skyscraper platform heels clomp across decrepit asphalt streets, kick through crumpled leaves, and strut confidently into the hippest club around. she meanders through the undulating bodies and takes a seat in a secluded booth, crossing her lithe sequined legs. picking up her head, she scans the room, looking past the camera whores and the hipsters; settling her viridescent eyes on the heavy black speakers spilling out techno beats and metallic voices. it was almost as though she could see, through the curling haze of cigarette smoke, straight into the music. into the vibrating guitar strings, into the raspy whispering lyrics, into the ivory keys of the piano. she shivered, the cobweb holes of her sweater exposing her pale skin to the air. music always made her feel this way, like she was the only one in the room, apart from everyone else. immune to the flashing lights and wasted girls. she figured it was better that way, as she stood up up and walked out, the night breeze sweeping her away.