Brianna Saraceno

A List of Things We Said We’d Do Tomorrow

All of us, we’re going out tonight. We’re cheekily smoking Lights and blowing the smoke into the nubile faces of our peers, standing at the front of the shorter line.

Walking past the diminutive DJ booth, with Myles’ shining silver Macbook, blasting tunes, and best of all: “Subterranean Homesick Blues”.

Past the well-lit bar, long enough to make the diminutive club appealing to well dressed hipsters with round pupils, but short enough to accommodate the band.

Past the blue carpeted stage, overflowing with instruments: a glittering white Melody Maker, a no name bass, and more amps than the naked eye can see.

Outside, in the warm February weather that occurs only in Los Angeles, to the smoking area: a chain-link fenced-in courtyard with 3 sets of rickety wooden tables. As we sat, chain-smoking our fingertips black, I looked down to see one miniscule splinter. It was throbbing, cherry red and ghoulish white.

Two lean young men averted my attention: one clad in decadent, ink colored leather jacket, the other in an unnecessarily skinny scarf and a short denim waistcoat.

Overshadowing their clothing was their glittering smiles, and the devilish twinkle in their crinkled eyes.

The boy’s flaxen, smiling mouths spoke of the good old days dating back two months. Long-winded words reminiscing about sultry nights in Nashville laughing together underneath the glowing rodeo lights.

Together we laughed about San Diego and the blustery sidewalk meals we shared. Laughing, until the saline from the water burned our eyes.

Six blinding flashes from a walking photographer brought us back down to Earth, and our delirious giggles drowned out any further conversation.

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