The satin dress was like a mild breeze on her skin. The music, played by suave locals with a bluish white complexion, flowed like water. She felt buried in moist soil that was vibrating with the motion of little earthen creatures, by her intoxication. She had kicked off her shoes and the green marble of the floor could be felt hard and cold against the soles of her feet.
The waiters were like enormous birds. They moved slowly and with grace and arrogance. The hand she held up to attract one of them was burning from the hot food she had ordered and been eating with her fingers. She could still taste the burning sauce on her tongue and on her red fingertips.
She felt a bit dizzy.
The music was suddenly extra intense flowing, flowing in foreign scales. Her feet froze to the ground. She felt the satin strangle her. A shrieking sound filled her head. Her body convulsed. The rhythm of the drums made her lift from the ground. She felt sick and blissful at the same time. Flames shot from her fingertips. She was breathing fire, igniting the paper ornaments in the ceiling.
Then it stopped. The breeze of the satin, and the water of the music, and the soil of the wine, and the cold of the marble, and the warmth of the food - was back.
And the waiter was right next to her. "Can I help you, madam?"
