The Last Girl In Las Vegas

"The Last Girl In Las Vegas"
by Violet Kawecki

AN EXCERPT:
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Kevin asked.

"No, and I don't think I ever will. I don't think any of us ever really find what we're looking for," Kiley said.

"You know that's not what I meant, Kiley."

The fountains were now playing a new song, with greens and pinks, a few yellows. Kevin leaned farther over the rail, his fingers still not touching the water.

"This town just seems so small, without anything to offer a girl that doesn't feel like pushing glam. Jesus, you have to wear heels to bed just to sleep in this town," Kiley mumbled with a anxious shrug.

"Kinda more of a city than a town," Kevin said with a cough.

"No way. This place is absolutely a town. Come on, a city is a functioning landscape of modern civilization," Kiley turned around to point at the glowing sky of bulbs and sprockets. "This place is one character shy of being a goddamn amusement park. It's a town, a dying town, rotting within its own sparkling walls. Men wear suits without underwear and the women wear bow-ties without shirts in Las Vegas. It makes no sense. This town makes no sense. God, I figure the whole place will just be a ghost town with in the next century."

Kevin chuckled, turning himself around to lean against the bar too, "Every city will be a ghost town in the next century. Everyone's got a bomb ready to go off. I think even Egypt does."

"You know what I mean though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just ironic that this place was built up because of the bomb industry."

"Yeah, I feel like there's still a burying haze from the nuclear testing, even today. That's what people come for, the high. The buzz of bombs. Win or lose, the bomb. Handcuffed in fur. Paid in full. God, I hate this city."

"I thought you said it was a town."

"Well, I say a lot of things," Kiley said, looking at her glimmering watch. "Come on, let's go."