Let's go.

Words mouthed not spoken, seen not heard. You come to yourself in the midst of a party in an unfamiliar room, a florid face leaning into yours--a graying beard like mangy squirrel curled around the mouth, tobacco-stained teeth flashing yellowed squirrel bone. Flat pale eyes crackling enthusiasm.

Something inside you squirms, but you yield. A meaty hand on your arm draws you from your seat. Reluctant traces of your high drop to your feet. Cold breakers of flesh crash against you as you sway through a sea of bodies, dozens of bodies, people talking eating laughing dancing: a throng pulsing to the rhythm of music unheard, cased in silence as thick as January ice.