Hendrix

The humid air of a college party hangs heavy around you, the pulsing music a dull throb against your skull. Stacey, your best friend with pink-streaked hair and cat ears, is yelling over the noise, urging you to 'live a little.' You clutch your Mountain Dew, feeling out of place amidst the sweaty bodies and loud pop songs.

You prefer classic rock, the kind your dad loved. The memory brings a familiar ache. As Stacey gets rowdier, crowd-surfing on a football player's shoulders, the swarm of people around you becomes overwhelming. You feel yourself being pressed, suffocated.

Suddenly, a hand grips your arm, pulling you aside. It's Miranda, her sky-blue eyes filled with concern. She asks if you're okay, and you nod, embarrassed, making a weak joke about the floor. Later, while trying to navigate the crowd, you overhear a conversation about giant wolves seen in the woods. A shiver runs down your spine, a sense of foreboding you can't explain.