Her Eyes Sparkle Like Butterflies

The Fires

Her Eyes Sparkle Like Butterflies (7 February 23) (15 February 23)

There was a haze over the town, a smoky layer under the sunset. The sky was on fire, orange and pink. Somewhere in town the local train derailed. It was threatening to ruin an otherwise wonderful evening. I decided I was no longer afraid of Errol. I was wearing his cardigan. He wasn't the reason I was there, but he lived in this place so it was hard to ignore him. I came for the women. I was cold looking out over the balcony. Della's gears were turning hard and her light was on solid. Both of us were thinking about the accident and hoping it wouldn't find a way to ruin our lives long term. A week prior I had plenty of things to worry about. They had all been lifted off my shoulders. It wouldn't have been very nice to have that weight replaced so soon. I held Della's cold hand and told her I wasn't afraid of Errol anymore. She had her own way of understanding. The rumbling in her chest stopped and she gave herself a rest. Her light blinked a few more times, then she was finished. I quickly wrote a note for Sherie, a song she might be able to use in the future. The song played in my head and mixed badly with the music in the room and down on the street. It was a series of notes that sounded great on their own but awful when they ran into each other. I turned away from the window and handed the note to Sherie with very little context. She could barely read my handwriting. She laughed at what it looked like. Then she sang the stray lines of the song playing from her record. It had just entered the bridge, a part that was still hitting us in the heart going on 3 years later.

"I was looking for something more obscure, darling," she danced to pour herself a drink.

"I thought it was obscure. I don't think people remember this film anymore," I suppressed a cough.

She handed me a glass full of cherry red liquid and shrugged. That may be so but film soundtracks had a way of sticking with people. Especially when the premise was about ridiculous monsters from outer space. It was fresh on our minds but the majority of people from our generation never heard of it. We dropped the subject and Sherie decided to hold onto the note for later. We flopped down onto her soft red chairs and sighed. The room had arguably too much stuff in it. It was a red attack on the senses. She liked the finer things. Her curtains were heavy and vibrant, parted to let in plenty of light. As spring approached she felt more inclined to open the window. I thought it was still too cold, and the smoke was beginning to fill the room. The window had to be opened to let out some of the steam we created from having our bodies so close together. All of us were more or less on the floor now. I stared upward at the ruby chandelier above my head. The wind made it sway but it was rooted well into the ceiling. It would take a large gust to take it down. When the sun came out for the last time, it made the red light scatter across the gilded ceiling. As far as gilded ceilings went, it wasn't that magnificent. It was just gold for the sake of being gold. I had seen better, I had seen worse. It wasn't a design choice by Sherie anyway.

A bizarre transaction was taking place in the corner. Cries rang out in surprise and anger at prices given and I worried for a moment Cris was getting ripped off tragically. She pulled out her money anyway. The item would be given to her in time. For now she sank into the corner once more and fanned herself with a large feather. Everyone else was writhing on the floor like a pit of snakes. The orgy was ongoing but me and Sherie needed to get our breath back. Della was still staring out the window. She moved from time to time, proving she was still working. Just like the rest of us, she had to worry about keeping herself alive and processed plenty of thoughts. The only difference was she was made of metal.

I decided I had nothing better to do, though my body and soul were trying to leave. It wasn't every day I got to be with everyone in the same room. I mindlessly counted the amount of people there. The final number was something like 13, though it didn't include Della or Errol. I realised I only knew a handful of their full names. I hadn't seen Errol in a while and I was nervous thinking of giving his cardigan back to him. Normally I would just keep it. Given the fact he wore it often, I could assume he would want it back. I stripped and prepared to leave it on the back of the chair. Sherie thought I had something else in mind. She straightened herself up and pushed her shoulders back. She was irresistible in every way I could think of. I never turned down one of her invitations. I was under her spell, forgetting all about leaving. Before I knew it we were on the floor with the others. Being close to the floor helped give my lungs a break. The smoke was hanging around closer to the ceiling. It filled the whole room but seemed to be unable to find its way to the floor. Beneath me was a mess of hair, feathers, and jewels. As it got dark I couldn't tell who was touching me. I kissed any mouth that came close to me. I could tell Sherie and Reese by their scent. Cris liked to make noise, particularly breathy moans and shrill cries. Leona liked to find her way with her hands. No breast in the room escaped her touch. The others were there in quiet spirit, waiting their turn. No singular individual ran the show, though it was Sherie's place. I found it strange that none of us shrieked or panicked when we heard the crunching metal. Then again, it was nearly every day something disturbed our peace. Perhaps we were expecting it.