Me goofing around with her format. Hope you enjoy:
AT THE CONCERT. Strobe lights brighten and fade faster than you can. I stare at them. A bright flash on someone's camera that isn't in sync with the strobes. My mind is wiped. I stumble backwards. You grab my waist right when I clutch for your shoulder, but you don't really want to touch me. Black. White. Black. Black. Black.
OUTSIDE. Perched on the bench like an unlit pyre. Eyes focus on the hundreds of legs walking all at the same pace. But never next to each other. A man walks up and hands me a ticket to "the opportunity America is talking about." Overwhelmed by under-stimulation, I shove my pen in my mouth. It's plastic and bland like your face when you walked away and left me here.