Happy Hour

by Marlowe Granados

She is a friend of a friend of a friend. Isn’t everybody?

The thing about fascination is once you realize there is nothing left to discover, it quickly wears thin.

Seeing someone you used to love is like visiting a house you once lived in. Everything about them is familiar yet strange.

There is comfort in getting ready to go out. I relish it. Gala will put on music that gives us a sense of excitement—not excitement directed at anything

but it was a themed party, so we couldn’t possibly say no.

It was my favourite time of evening, when the sun starts to set and the lights come on in the streets and it’s all blue and yellow. It’s the time when people come home and turn on a lamp, and no one thinks to draw their curtains just yet. Civil dusk, it’s called. It’s the only hour in any city where everything suddenly turns familiar.

Intellectuals are funny because they always think you mean more than you say, when sometimes I don’t mean anything at all.

We also have to laugh on command. This is something I do regularly, so it is not difficult.

A woman begs a man every day, “Show me your heart! Show me your heart!” And finally after months and years of the woman begging, the man reaches into his chest and holds his heart in his hand. Upon sight of it, the woman reaches for a hammer. I think of this little parable whenever I am wasting time on someone and wondering whether or not I should be.

If I were to describe typical New York conversation, it would be two people waiting for their turn to talk.

Some people think that in order to make an impression on a pretty girl, one has to be mean to her.

Though we give the appearance of it, I wonder when we were last truly carefree. Were we ever? It’s an odd, impalpable thing to always chase. I’ve felt it in small, delicious fragments, and usually when I’m dancing. The only way to achieve even the veneer of such freedom is to resist being pulled down by the weight of everything.

“If you asked me four years ago whether I’d be scared of getting on your bad side, I would’ve said of course not, but now I’m not so sure.”

I realize now, the older you get, the harder it is to be impressed because people make you feel ashamed of ever being impressed by anything at all. I keep many glowing remarks to myself because of this.

Beauty is a funny thing. It fools you into thinking you like someone when really all you want is to possess them. Ultimately, I guess that’s what desire is. Something I find so beautiful should be mine!

I am slowly learning to never accept less than I deserve. Deciding how much I deserve is another matter.

“I resigned myself to a fate I thought I wanted, but now I don’t!”

He was trying to flatter me, the snake!

Gala and I have similar objectives when we go out. It’s not that we’re looking for anything in particular, but we both like to see how far the night goes. There is nothing better than having zero expectations and then the night leading somewhere you never thought of.

I don’t exist for other people’s curiosity, but sometimes it does feel that way. One can be seen and then unseen just as quickly.

Whenever I get caught having feelings outside of what is expected, people act like it’s a deep betrayal.

It is truly a gift that I can alter the disposition of an occasion entirely. I am small but my mood radiates. I can make a whole room unbearable.