The room was spinning. The cheesy green disco lights on the dance floor seemed to whip around her at a dizzying pace. One last dance and she’d go. She’d been saying that for the past hour, but this time she meant it. She didn’t trust herself around this gorgeous man. Not after all the drinks she had. She didn’t even know his last name. She knew nothing of his personal history, his likes and dislikes. His character. Just that he was beautiful. And a great dancer.
He whispered something in her ear and she leaned her head back and laughed just as the room exploded. Flashes of fire, screaming, people running for cover, cries of suffering, hands over bleeding wounds. He crumpled to the floor and she knelt beside him, his white shirt drenched with red.
“Go. Just go,” he whispered, giving her hand a slight squeeze. She kissed his still-warm cheek and crawled for the back exit, weeping for a man whose last name she’d never learn.