The world around me hums a deep indigo. I’m finishing up my latest routine at the nearby dance studio, I’ve got hoop earrings on and my hair is a curly mess. The cute gym trainer is eyeing me through the window, even though he knows I’m seeing someone. It’s not that I’m “taken”, I made sure everyone around us understood that I’m not the type of girl to ever truly be “taken”, I’m simply involved. My phone rings and it’s my bassist boyfriend asking if we’re still on for dinner. We’ve been in an open relationship for a couple good months at this point. He’s cute and supplies good grass, so I keep him around. He’s also a sweet, kind soul. By the time I exit the dance studio building, the sky has turned a beautiful light indigo. The sun has set, but its light has not. And so I make my way, via underground, to my apartment in downtown Brooklyn. I shower listening to SZA and using my favorite eucalyptus and spearmint shower gel. I love smelling fresh on such a possible, young and fruitful night. Anything can happen in New York on a night like this, where there’s love and inspiration in the air. Anything at all. Even Gatsby. I chuckle to myself, reminiscing the innocent humor of my IB English class. I miss my school years, but not enough to dwell on the past and miss a single second of the present. I dress in one of my favorite black evening gowns, the one with the glitter clutch that goes with it, step into a pair of black pumps and pull my hair back. My hoop earrings get all the attention tonight. Well, my earrings and my obvious excitement. I’m in love with the person I’ve become and the life I’m living. At this point in my life, I’ve gotten comfortable with the cycle of life and the inevitable vanish of all things known. In fact, I’ve gotten so comfortable with letting go of things that I sometimes have trouble holding onto what matters. But I don’t think I’ve learned this lesson just yet. Up in my tiny but stellar Brooklyn apartment, it’s just me and my glitter. And the indigo night that envelopes us.