Relief

I shut the back up door to my room while the last party-goers said good night. This was the symbolic end of the party. I stripped to my underwear. I turned off the lights. The door closed.

There was peace in my home.

As I nodded off, I felt sublime. Positively sublime. For the better part of three hours over a hundred people came through my front door. At one point there were eighty people in this building. And all the insanity that entails. This place was alive. It breathed. The windows dripped thick drops of water. The stairs were splattered with vomit. Then, almost abruptly, the part evaporated. And it was still. And it was dark. And it was beautiful.