Ficly about a blind man at a party. Just trying something new, hopefully my representation of what I know nothing about will not offend anyone. Shouldn’t though.

There’s a clatter on the far end of the room, maybe from the kitchen. Laughter to my left, a woman coughs by the bar. The clock hits twelve. Midnight, that is. The magic hour. The rules dissolve, the music kicks up, and the pulse flows through everyone on the dance floor right in front of me, but I’m in my chair.

I was told this house is in the middle of nowhere, people come every night to sweat out the hate. Me? No. I’m just curious. There’s something penetrating about the vibe here.

The back door opens, more people enter. Car outside a window behind me. I grab my cane and stand, listening for my friend. I move slowly, but end up bumping into someone who turns and shoves. I fall. A gruff voice tells me to watch where I’m going, but someone else tells him to back off. Maybe he’s too drunk tonight to notice my dark glasses. Someone else helps me stand up. I thank them, but there’s no response and I’m left standing stiffly as the dancers and party-goers bounce and push, blissfully unaware of my existence.

Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/15997