[Ariel]: 727.Contest.OctoberFiveWords

A roll of arms lift into the air as the musician decides to saw away at his instrument under the pulsing lights of the club. She returns a wink made by some nameless, faceless stranger, and tries a tango with the sad man who smells of vanilla. Each quick step through the writhing crowd bursts with sweat and heat, the product of this chemical reaction of soul and music, crowds and no inhibitions. Partners pull away, to disappear and try to be engulfed by the sound. Morning will come, sending light splashing through the dirty glass onto the web of strangers, desperate for a fling to make them feel alive.