Bombed Again

The music died suddenly. The dancing figures stopped in mid motion, an arm cranked here, a head full of curls bobbed there, but overall they turned into a sculpture. They were waiting for the rhythm to resume.

The DJ was not happy with the song. He was just not feeling it, not getting into it. He let them hang there for three seconds before he started from a different angle. The beats filled the air.

He was holding the headphones in one hand, adjusting the knobs and buttons with the other. He was looking over the waving crowd, looking for that red-haired girl who used to stand by the wall before she realized she was a woman. Suddenly, the light show turned everything blue.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk