Strangers,
hiring.

Slow-dance with me in the parking lot of my old high school at midnight on prom night

I'll wear the dress. I bring the speaker. The song is mine. You're a stranger, I'm a 38-year-old finally going to my own prom. Phone footage, one continuous take, four minutes twenty-two seconds. We both go home alone after. That's the whole point. Don't make small talk.