Dancing

Tom stood alone on the edge of the dance floor. Looking. Strobe lights flashed in sync with the latest beats. The heavy house bass thumped inside Tom’s chest while happy dancers danced lost in the music, throwing shapes they would never use on the street. 

High as kites. 

Tom longed to join them but couldn’t. Something hidden held him back. All he could do was watch and drink. Drink and watch. 

He got very drunk. 

When the club closed Tom went to the chipper and picked a fight with a small guy he thought he could beat. 

‘What the fuck you lookin at?’ He shouted.

They danced violence on the street. 

-Job

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