This was the same club where we met. The DJ then was a chubby dude that wore heaps of fake gold chains. He jammed with one earphone on his head, his rings glinting in the disco lights as he made the famous screeching record sound. He spun tracks that kept you dizzy for hours, if you weren’t already dizzy from the dancing colors and stiff drinks.

The time we spent together moved as quickly as the rhythms. Happiness carried us along like the thick crowds carried us over their heads. He was my world and we spun together in slow dances, and twirled through salsas, a whirlwind of ups and downs. We cried and laughed in the same hour. We drove fast to outrun the fallout in our wake and walked slowly throwing rocks in the waves just to make a splash.

When he left me, I was thrown off balance like stepping off the spinning merry-go-round at the park. Everything stopped.

Yet here I am, back where it all began. The irony of it is, I feel like I never left, though the DJ is different now. And he is gone.

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