what a bittersweet life

Probably the same day as Mr Johnson visited the club.

I came to see her. She was the first girl I danced with in this club. Over the past month, I visited the club often. After the first visit, it was only for her. Sometimes I tried with other girls when she was busy or away. Not for excitement, but to test my feelings to her. It was so different. I stopped accepting other girls' invitations. Each time, time flew. I missed her as soon as I left.

The club was busy that day. Luckily, I got to sit with her for a few songs as soon as I arrived. "Tell me about yourself," she said. "Show me your cat's picture." I couldn't find it. Just pictures of my kids, my wife. I showed her those. Told her about my life. It was odd to talk about that in the enviroment, but the conversation went strangely well. I was weirdly open.

Her turn on stage. She glowed. She was not the best dance in the club, technichally. I believe it was because she felt my love. Several men tipped. I observed the swelling lust. Sad. For fleeting sweetness. For transient illusions. For being a little man.

The VIP room was nice, with a mirror. She was beautiful. She said she likes the mirror and wanted to take the mirror home when she stops dancing. Time passed quickly. I forgot to do too much special. Everything was already amazing.