The Chill Out Room
Our senses picked up. We couldn’t say what it was; the smell of hot buttered toast just beyond what we could smell, the promise of warmth that our skin could almost feel. It was getting dim but we kept moving. We had direction. We reached out but didn’t touch, we circled one another, our dance spun and mellowed into a waltz, a hug, a moment; and still we wanted more.
Something foamy was rising up from the floor, like a web of mattresses and beanbags, cushions, comfy chairs and sofas. Over in the corner, years away, a light started glowing. Our muscles ached to fit into the shapes that had grown all around. More of us were arriving all the time, racing forwards, anxious to combine and soon we were many and we sank into the gorgeous dips and shapes of soft matter where we belonged. Where we, too, began to glow. No one mentioned DM but we all knew DM was there, had always been there, pulling us together.