just a draft...

I slowly reapply the clearance-section eyeliner, the package promising that "sex and lust" lie, like some universal truth, inside the plastic wrapping.  I have to be careful here- too much and I look like some rebellious, chatroom-using preteen who dove into their mother's vanity headfirst.  On the other hand, too little and it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference.  I want to emulate the glare of neon lights on a wet street, the sound of cheap stilettos on a booze-stained floor, the electric possibility of a first kiss before the inevitable let-down.  I am a Saturday night, with no Sunday morning clarity to drag me down.