I was desperate for a hit. We crouched down underneath the blinking fluorescents in the vestibule of fifty-two Banker Street and made the transaction. Out of the eyes of the staggering drunk college kids trolling the bar avenue, we decided to split the last of Ravi’s stash, and buy more the next morning from a friend of a friend. When it was over, the dope making its course through our blood, we smoked a cigarette and drank the last of the fifth of vodka we bought in case we didn’t have enough dope left. But, we had more than enough, Ravi’s stuff was that strong. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and the sidewalk came up just to meet me personally, face-to-face.

I don’t know how long I laid there as a numb, quivering heap. Rich grabbed me by the back of the collar and, choking, helped me into the piss dank alleyway where I would spend the night. We both had work the next morning, but there was a change of clothes and a cup of coffee waiting for me at Liz’s house whenever I woke myself up and dragged my ass down there. My dress shirt was blood-stained from the broken nose I suspected I sustained from the fall. I had no idea how long had passed, but by the time I realized I was in pain, the blood was already dry and it was morning

Monday - it must have been Monday. I got on the 43 bus uptown to get to Liz’s, fully aware of the glare of commuters on the bloody junkie with the well-tailored (but now ruined) suit. All I had was a twenty, and the driver wouldn’t make change. I stuffed the bill into his fat, pink, open palm. I could have taken a cab for that price, but I was already there, and so, so tired. I considered the extra change in my pocket, and realizing I had enough in the first place to not pay extra, sat down anyway. My usually steady hands shook. Where was Rich? We usually met up in the morning, but today something seemed off, and I hoped that he had made it to Liz’s apartment. Maybe he tried to call, but my phone was dead, or more likely had its guts bashed at some point in the night. The glare of the morning sun between the buildings was blinding - even when I closed my eyes, the brightness burned red. It took me a few minutes in my stupor to notice the rest of the passengers had migrated to the opposite end of the bus.

“Fuck you,” I thought. You don’t have any idea how much of your life I could own. Your whole life is in my blood smeared, well-manicured hands.