she turns the corner towards her apartment door, faltering. she had a few tonight and feels a bit blurry. it was fun, though, the most fun she’s had since the break. she feels very lucky to have such a strong support system during these times. tonight was a good night

the hallway leading up to her apartment looked just as it always has, well-lit, carpeted, like a low-budget hotel, which is more than most people could say for their new york city apartments

but something was off.

she heard music coming from inside her apartment, where she lived alone. she stopped and listened, her skin tightening on her arms.

My love must be a kind of blind love

I can’t see anyone but you

She recognizes it instantly. it’s that old Flamingos song, “I only have eyes for you.” everyone knows that song.

but she knows it for a different reason: it’s their song. it was the first song they danced together to. it’s the song they would play every anniversary, all four of them. she even has the 1959 Flamingo Serenade record, obviously, because it’s playing right now

she leans on the wall of the corridor and sighs, feeling that anxiety creeping up her gut, you know? he’s here and he wants to get back together. he still has a key. she never actively told him to not come over. they did live in this apartment for two years, after all

Are the stars out tonight?

I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright

she shakes her head, trying to sober up. he’s playing their song, clearly trying to do some grand gesture and she needs to not buy it

she needs to be strong. her friends told her that all night. she can’t just take him back after all the shit he’s done, no matter how much he’s been begging over the past month. she just can’t

she finally turns the doorknob. it’s open. she takes a deep breath, preparing for a long night of fighting and crying

I only have eyes for you

dear

all the lights in her apartment are off, but her record player is on in the living room

“paul?”

The moon may be high

But I can’t see a thing in the sky

no answer, just music. her eyes have trouble adjusting to the light change. she turns the hall light on and sees drops of blood on the floor feet in front of her

something’s very wrong

“paul?”

I only have eyes

for you

she takes out the mace from her purse and peers her head around the corner, wide-eyed and unbreathing

I don’t know if we’re

in a garden

she sees a figure sitting on her couch in the dark, the record spinning calmly on the side table. it looks vaguely Paul-shaped

Or on a crowded avenue

“paul? is that you”

You are here

and so am I

her shaking hand finally reaches the main light switch

Maybe millions of people go by

her apartment fills with light. when she sees him, her blood turns to ice and she falls backward against the bathroom door, screaming

But they all disappear

paul is sitting calmly on her couch waiting for her, blood streaming down his cheeks and staining his button up shirt and khaki pants

one of her kitchen knives lies useless on the coffee table, also bloodied

from view

on Paul’s face are two bloody holes where his eyes used to be, staring in her direction but not directly at her. he smiles, tired, happy she’s home

she doesn’t know what do but crouch and scream as loud as she can for help. she can’t move, she can’t do a thing

And I only have eyes

finally, he stands up, arms open

for you

as if asking for one last dance

Sha bop sha bop

Sha bop sha bop

Sha bop sha bop

Sha bop sha bop

Sha bop sha bop