Aiden is whispering as we continue to shuffle toward the center of the dark square room, explaining what the installation is trying to portray. Soft music plays as lights begin to pop on one by one, throwing patterns across the room. Bodies begin to drop from the ceiling panels, on what look like trapeze and—Wait. Are they people, or are they puppets? They look so limp, it’s hard to tell. They’re wrapped in colorful silk scarves, and I’m sure they’re attached somehow, but I can’t see anything holding them up. They look like limp bodies descending down into the room over our heads. People. They’re definitely people.

More lights begin to flash from the perimeter of the room, painting the walls and ceiling with intricate designs. It’s mesmerizing, and I can’t help but smile up at Aiden, whose eyes are fixed on the performers above us. He smiles, but never takes his eyes off of the bodies that are billowing out of the ceiling like an upside-down clown car.

The performers begin twisting and climbing and flipping on their silky tethers, shouting and singing, their voices spinning around and over me as the lights whirl around the room like a deranged kaleidoscope. As a woman dangles in front of us, I look up at Aiden again and realize how close we’ve gotten as I twisted and turned to follow the performers. I’m nestled into him, my back almost to his chest. His arm has shifted across my collarbone. I’m not sure if Aiden’s fingers are moving on my bare shoulder, or if it’s just me, vibrating against him, but I suddenly feel like I might explode. What are we doing? All the spots where we touch feel charged. The back of my head rests against his chest as I look up toward the performers overhead. There are two of them, limbs tangled in the silk cords and each other, as they rise and fall with twists of the fabric. My breathing feels slow and heavy as I try to keep myself in check, before I crawl out of my skin.