Lora ran to the spot, but the figures had already melted into the trees, leaving only trampled grass and the faint scent of peaches and sweat hanging in the humid air. The crushed blades glistened under the fractured moonlight, pressed flat in the shape of bodies that were no longer there. A single sandal lay abandoned near the roots, its strap snapped like a wishbone. Lora crouched, her fingertips hovering over the damp earth where laughter had vibrated minutes before, now just indents in the soil, already fading. The party's bassline thumped on, oblivious.
The fairy lights blurred as Lora stumbled backward, her sandals slipping on crushed beer cans and damp grass. Everywhere she turned, bodies collided, against trees, picnic tables, the hood of a parked car slick with condensation. A girl moaned into the crook of a guy’s elbow nearby, her dress bunched around her waist as he lifted her onto the tailgate. Someone’s handprint glowed red on another girl’s thigh under the makeshift strobe lights. Lora’s pulse pounded in her temples like a second bassline, her breath coming too fast. This wasn’t a party. It was an orgy with a soundtrack.
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