SSSSD: Day Seven

Here it is, my seventh and final short short-- I did it! I'm a winner! Now I can get back to doing what I do best-- intermittently writing sometimes entertaining, sometimes boring snippets about my life. But I had a great time doing this-- it at least reminded me that I am capable of sitting down and writing SOMETHING. So hopefully this will spur me on go back to writing at least somewhat frequently.

I really hope you've enjoyed reading these-- I secretly imagine that people were showing up on my blog and going "Damn it! Another freaking short!" But I thought it would be fun to share...

In the meantime, here's today's prompt. Ahh, memories. Although I never danced with anyone to Prince, unless you count the time we were at Martha's and that guy with the wicker hat sang "Kiss."

***
The alarm clock sounded red and loud, like a fire alarm. And even when she turned it off, the red sound was still there—inside her head, honking, flashing red, then blue—police-car lights in sound.

She looked at the clock—eleven-thirty. The windows in the bedroom were cracked, and birds were singing their mid-day song already, even though it seemed she had just fallen into bed.

What did she remember? Kissing him—red sound again, high pitched and all inside her. And dancing, which she never did. The songs they played had been purple songs, purple velvet—maybe Prince? She had danced to Prince? With him?

It was time for the bathroom now—black noise now. Stomach and head and black and red and blue noise now. And as the entire evening fell into the toilet, the siren call of inner noise reached an unbearable pitch.