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Seven Minutes

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You are at a party.

Its late a night, way past your curfew and people here are drunk or getting there. Music is thumping through the house you're in. Whose house, you don't know. Red cups are everywhere and people are dancing on the make shift dance floor in the living room. You walk through the crowded hall, looking for your friend. You spot her across a heavily packed room and you start to push through the mingled bodies. When you find her, she is sitting on some random persons lap holding a red cup that she didn't have last time you saw her.
You take a seat next to boy she is sitting on and tap her cup. She just shrugs. You get up and walk away from your friend, hoping the man she was sitting on wasn't a rapist. You head for the door.

"Seven minutes in heaven!" Someone girl yells over the noise.

The party sucks and you're bored, so you walk in the general direction of the yelling girl. You find her standing in the dining room, surrounded by people. She is holding a small, dark blue bag in her hands.
You walk up to her and ask if you can go first. She nods and asks you to reach into the bag.
You stick your hand into the mysterious bag, feeling around inside. You feel something long and thin, fabric maybe. Some thing round and smooth. A piece of crumpled paper and what might be a comb.
You close your eyes and grab the first thing your hand touches. You slowly retract your hand from the bag, pulling the shoelace out of the bag.
It was electric green and had little black stars sharpied on to it.
You look at the girl holding the bag, she winks and says "Nice choice."

Someone taps you on the back. You turn around and size up the boy standing in front of you. He is taller than you by about five inches, he has brown hair that hangs just below his eyebrows. His brown eyes are light, like chocolate moose. He has a band of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His smile is bright like the sun, you notice the one dimple on the left side of his mouth.
He is wearing a gray sweatshirt that looks very soft, his hands are in his pockets. He is wearing dark jeans with holes in them, like he had worn them everyday for a year.

Your eyes stop at his worn out, black converse. One of them is missing a shoelace.

You look at the shoelace in your hands, then hold it out to him. "I think this is yours." You stammer to him.
He smirks, his one dimple lighting up. "I guess so."

He takes your hand and leads you into a closet. You step inside and sit on the floor, pushing an old parka out of the way.
He sits beside you and takes your hand.
You look at him. He closed his eyes and is leaning against the wall.
You wait for him to speak.

You look away from him and sigh.

You look back at him as he lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses it.

"Times up."



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