The party rocked. Music thrummed through her soles and the edges of her vision blurred.
I’m buzzed, she thought. Tipsy. Perhaps even drunk.
It did not matter that there was no alcohol in the bowl.
The cheer was what intoxicated her.
The brightly colored joy.
So much better than last week’s funeral, she thought. That energy had depleted her. Dark. Gray. Thirsting.
For another sip.
She smiled to let the pavonine life-liquor of the child’s birthday party pour right into her.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: pavonine in 81 words