Protect Me from What I Want

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes; the beer had grown warm in his hand. Someone had put in a new CD, something quieter than the evening’s earlier choices. A delicate female voice over an elusive piano; a song about love lost. His brain felt foggy. Why had he let Ginny convince him to come to this party, anyway? He opened heavy eyelids. Most people had gone home or on to some other party and this one was winding down. He saw a couple he didn’t know fooling around on the couch adjacent to his chair, fumbling with each other’s clothes. He slouched down further, his eyelids half closed and the hand with the beer dangling limply to his side.