She got up from her chair and walked towards the record player next to the musician. She quieted him, promised him a free drink if he would stop playing just for one song, maybe two. She set the record on the turntable and delicately dropped the needle. It came quietly at first, then loud and steady. He knew this song, all too well in fact

‘White Rabbit,’ he said out loud in a bemused tone.

The music cut into the dust in the air. His arms swelled into a field of goosebumps and he shivered, despite the radiant heat in the room. His heart thudded to the beat of the drum, slightly faster on each beat, and his clammy palms gripped the edge of his seat. He watched her walk back and forth, swaying to the rhythm of the music, and many other’s even rose from their discussions to enjoy the distorted moment. He blinked as they each glowed, every person a small rainbow. When they moved, the colors moved, trailing spectrums among the pub. The entire setting became a surreal painting. He smiled, he liked sugar.