Isla sits on the floor of the bar, surrounded by a mess of hopelessly tangled wire and cable. Cable one goes into port two, and wire three into slot four. Her rig should be mostly functional now.
She stands up. The thick layer of cigarette ash, beer, and assorted bodily fluids that coats the entire bar sticks to her thighs. It tries unsuccessfully to pull her back down to the ground.
Isla checks her phone. A few pings from people she doesn't care too much about. Claire can't make it. Stupid studious fuck. She thinks, half sarcastically. Half.
"gl w exams bitch" - Isla types
"thx, sry again" - Claire responds
"allg, c u another time <33" - Isla
She pretends she doesn't mind, even if she does, but she also understands. Claire and Isla were close throughout the later half of high school but they began to drift apart when Claire went to university. She was the one person who would've been able to, so Isla was ecstatic to hear she was accepted, but it was hard to be left behind.
Isla looks back down at her phone and begins typing away again.
"hey I got a gig on tn if u wanted 2 come? experimental music night.. miss u xx" - Isla messages Molly
"Message not delivered. Try adding this user as a friend" - Isla's phone in response
"Urgh the fuck? fine, I guess it's just me tonight" - Isla to herself this time
Back to tinkering with her rig. She turns dials up and down, plugs and unplugs various cables, and ultimately nothing significant is changed. If she's being honest it's just something to do to occupy her brain while the time passes. Isla hasn't felt passionate about She thinks back to the nights she used to spend with the people she loved and wishes she was at Claire or Molly's house getting high instead of at this show.
Noise.
What once was can never be again. Oh well.
Blaring noise.