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Jenny in the green shirt, who was dancing with a man much too old for her. He was very obviously drunk, and I don't think she was very good at refusing his advances. Despite her being young she seemed to know what she was doing, unlike the latter. The drunk man stumbled about, beer still in hand, probably overjoyed at the fact that a woman this beautiful would even look at him. The band was playing a Skynyrd classic, and she moved quickly to the tempo, flailing her arms above her head. Had this been any other girl she might have not pulled it off. She moved as if she was suspended in an elevator in free-fall filled with water. There was no light on the makeshift dance floor, which was really just a grass field. From my position I could only see her silhouette as it moved gently against the backdrop of the lighted stage. The darkened outline of her body seemed to highlight her feminine figure. Her hips were only smoothly curved lines, her face contorted into some sort of passionate smile.

I sat off to the side, watching the event transpire with an acute desire to trade places with the man dancing with her. Jenny was young, but still too old for me, or maybe I was too young for her. Either way, It didn't make a difference.

I admired her beauty and graceful dancing, but at the same time, pitied her for hanging out with such an undesirable crowd. I don't get their lifestyle, and perhaps I never will. Perhaps I never want to. I wanted to shout out "You're better than this!" but I'm not nearly bold enough.

I regret not talking to Jenny in the green shirt. I should have told her how nice she looked when she was dancing, even if I am too young to be doing so. I wish I could have gotten to know Jenny better, because all I know, all I'll ever know, is her green shirt.

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