Vanity. Ares

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Maria did one more Jazz solo and then myself,
Anais, Beckett and her decided to drink together.
But as Anais wanted to take some money out of
an ATM, we all walked down Islington Road,
chatting and talking. I remember noticing an old
lady wearing a green hat and two teenaged
looking boys riding BMX bikes on the side of the
road. Memories of these sort are sometimes
innocuously enjoyable. As we were having a
decent time chatting, we decided to walk a while
after going into a Tesco and buying cheap
alcohol; I remember buying two bottles of the
cheapest red wine in the supermarket. Alcohol
had replaced Cocaine by that time; much easier
on the wallet.
We drunk and eventually took a black cab
to Dalston, as Maria knew this bar she said was
cozy and cool; I assumed that meant it was full of
hipsters. “Let’s go to Alibi, I have some friends
that live around there, it’ll be so un-blasé, just
chill, drink,” said Maria. I said, fine and we split
the Cab bill, thankfully for my wallet it was not
much; only a few quid or the price of a bus ride.
We got to the bar and drunk some more. I got a
Vodka and Coke and drunk that down. Maria was
barely warming to me, she was perhaps just
entertaining my advances. Her attitude never did
relent; fierce but quite humorous, as she then
told stories and one about kicking a man in his
balls which I found full of black comedy; she had
a dry laugh — it was slow and stuttery. It came to
maybe about, one or two, I can't fully remember,
but Maria had given me another one of those
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