Alone on Friday Night by Ulises Palmeno

I went to the movie theater after an algebra exam. Didn’t cost much to see the show. Firefly light bulbs lined around the sign over the teller. There wasn’t any line to go in. Some seniors from school talked outside, they smoked cigarettes and looked at me but didn’t say anything. Popcorn was cheap and premade. They didn’t even have Coke, just a knock off. The cashier that handed me the snacks had dark hair and green eyes. I asked if we could get a hamburger after her shift, but she didn’t say anything. I grabbed the snacks and walked upstairs to the balcony on the second floor. I was the only one up there. Most of the people sat on the first floor. Wooden seats lined with thin cushions, carpet peeled off the floor and stuck to the sides of the metal legs. Gum stuck underneath the seat. I sat in the first row, close to the edge of the balcony. Some woman walked in from the side. She was older, wore a dress and had curly hair. Didn’t think much of her. She sat down in the back corner, in the darkness. Face blurred in the lightless room. She wheezed in between the sounds of wet slaps. I turned around and her legs on the front chair spread apart, she ran her fingers around her leg. When I shifted in my seat, her hand went underneath her dress. I looked around and nobody else was there. She was the only one and nobody else came in from the side. I wanted to hold her in the dark with her face unseen, and feel the fabric on her dress. But the only thing I felt was the buttery oil around my hands, and the salt underneath my fingernails. My fingers ran along the edge of the condensation from my soda, felt the cold drops run through the crevices on my flesh and only imagined how her fingers must have felt.

Ulises Palmeno is a student at Sacramento State University studying English with an emphasis in creative writing. He was born and raised in Salinas, California.