He blew smoke right at my face through his teeth. Jaundiced,
blood shot eyes stayed fixed on mine. ‘That’s the price of it sweetheart,
eventually your soul weighs out and before you know it you’ve got thick yellow
leather where your skin used to be.’
He handed me the small, clear plastic bag, his gaze never
faltering.
My hands were slick with sweat, so much so that I thought the
bag was going to slide right though my fingers. Sometimes now I wish it had,
sometimes I catch a glimpse of what’s left of me in a mirror, and I really
truly wish it had.
‘Well, you gonna open it doll?’ As I opened the baggy, he blew more smoke from between those
thick liver lips of his, obscuring my
view of the substance held within. I wish
it had stayed that way forever, out of focus, just like me.
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