He took her down to the dance floor, which by now was pretty packed. After perhaps five minutes (and two shots of tequila), she finally lost her sense of shame and danced with him properly, going even so far as to attempt to grind. It was clearly not something she was practiced at, which made it all the more adorable. After a few songs, a couple of girls tried to get Cora to dance with them, clearly enjoying male attention from the performance. Cora looked at him as if asking permission, and he laughed and nodded; he was not about to discourage her flirting with girls.

Being here was so stupid, it was so fucking stupid. It was the embodiment of American excess, it was where intellectualism went to die, it was fundamentally not his scene. And yet, it was fun, that thing ossdahdha like himself were not supposed to admit. The DJ mixed to a song he hadn’t heard before, the lyrics repeating, Just dance, it’ll be okay, just dance. That felt like solid life advice in that moment. Just dance. So they did.

Then everything turned black.

He pulled her into a tight embrace as the music cut to silence. Then a thrum vibrated through the building, as though an explosion had gone off some distance away. A few girls screamed, and there was a moment of quiet confusion before most people started talking over each other in the darkness.

“An EMP?” asked Kaveh.

Cora looked around wildly. “No,” she said, pointing to the door. “The exit lights are still on. If it were an EMP, those would be out, too.”

He stopped breathing, straining to listen, but his fellow club-goers were too busy loudly speculating on what was going on to let him hear anything. Then the house lights went up, illuminating the club in bright, unsexy fluorescents, and he heard a gas generator somewhere outside. Everyone looked around for some direction, which eventually came in the form of a manager near the entrance.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The entire block seems to be experiencing a power outage. If you’d like to wait and see if the power will come back on, you are welcome to do so.”

Cora didn’t wait for him to stop talking, all but sprinting in those heels back up the stairs to the VIP section. Kaveh followed, and by the time he made it, she had dug out her cell phone from her purse. “It’s still working,” she said, holding it open so Kaveh could see. Screen still operational, battery still full. Definitely not an EMP.

“I’d hope so!” said Nasser, clueless as ever. “If the power doesn’t come back on soon, I’m going to have to get a refund.”

“Texting Sol,” she said, popping off a message. Then she looked at Kaveh gravely, hastily gathered her things, and grabbed him by the hand. “Come on.”