Haze

I watch the smoke dance draft-blown patterns around his head and take another hit. More haze. My nose burns as Quentin tells me to slow down, to get out of my head and back into reality with him. Screw reality. Reality fucked four too many people over in my opinion.

Especially Jason. Jason doesn’t really have a backstory. He’s a local stoner kid, provides excellent green, travels well, and suffers minimally. See, Jason isn’t under the influence as hard as the rest of us in the group. Somebody has just now latched on to him, the rage hasn’t spread quite yet. Poor kid.

But that is what the rage was to me. Venom. Poison. Deadly. Yet, contagious.

Flynn’s back. He takes my drug station, blade and all. I secretly wished the blade would turn red with a slight slide under his thumb skin as he walked back. But I loved Flynn.

Another hit.

The haze is much too heavy now to fight.

But really, so is the clear day.

A tingle of pain rushes through my spine and my hair stands on edge.

I need another hit.

-D.R Breshears


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