I couldn’t count how many times the laminated pages were turned and flipped, stained by clouds of nicotine and a pool of caffeine. Never mind the jazzy notes from the mini speakers on the wall, a foolish distraction from what went on behind the burgundy walls across the street.
A fleet of black shiny wheels boarding strangers of all shapes and colors, elegantly draped in a mosaic of feathers and satins.
Eyes hidden behind a curtain of lace, stared through a metal slot in seconds. A secret word kissed through the gate before they disappeared into a night of perfumed air and glittery hair.
Moments passed by as I poured the last drop into my cup, when a note sailed on a whisper of a breeze.
I pressed the note to my lips reciting the words as I made my way to the gates that separated the common from the uncommon.
I marked the cup as my past, denouncing my mortality as I turned into one of the gods in the house with burgundy walls.
Pic of a lovely place in DTLA taken and edited by Luvina Rosdiana.