The sudden sound of her cell phone vibrating was so real that Aria couldn’t help but look away from the trolley's window and reach into her backpack to check-- but no, no new messages. No missed calls. It’s just the memory…

The static started phasing in and out, the music started fading in. Her body felt pins-and-needles, numb to anything but the beat of her heart, the beat of a song. Aria wasn’t one to really hang out with the cool kids, but somehow she was always invited to the parties anyway. Maybe it was because they knew she would bring booze, or because she had an in with all the good dealers in the outer districts. Whatever reasoning they had, Aria often found herself smoking a cigarette and dancing alone on the balcony of Zack’s rich asshole parents’ apartment in the 4th district.

Her eyes flutter closed, her shoulders sway beneath her. She's rolling now, and spilling her heart with every move she makes. A twirl and a dip, heartstrings rip. The beat slows down, static fills in the sound-- the waves take her again. Her chest heaves with make-believe sobs, her body thrown by emotions against the floor in dance. The more she focuses, the more she loses. So she just lets herself go.

A soul taken by the static. Swirling her memories, lifting her in and out of misery.
The calming calamity. It was addicting.