In the Closet with Carrie

We were pressed against the back wall behind a tangle of dresses and hangers, the Boone’s Farm in our stomachs rising against the reek of moth balls. Blue and red flashing lights stabbed under the bifold doors, licking my guilty socks.

She took my hand, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

Originally published at 50-Word Stories on January 10, 2019