stairs

you were standing at the top of the stairs, the ceiling was low and geometric -- you had to turn your head to the side in order to fit in the door frame. a red light was shining on your face, you seemed to gaze at me. i couldn't see the source of the red light behind me, but when it hit your face it turned lemonade pink. you were young, as i remember you, plush and perspiring.

stay with me.

you know i can't.

i felt summoned -- a wistful invitation -- like biting into a hot peach, like melted butter surrendering on toast.

you look like the devil.

i smiled and turned my head to match yours.

you said something under your breath, people rushed up and down the stairs between us -- on their way to the stage -- makeup bright and feathers flying.