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Weekly Contest #189
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. It was early November in Chicago. Street lights painted me neon, and I waltzed the streets. The souls of my sneakers beat the concrete sidewalk, resounding clicks through the dusk afterglow. I walked the city, my earbuds muddling the sounds of Chicago. I played the same songs I had heard a thousand times; the songs that I didn’t have to think about but were busy enough to drown out the cacophony of my city. My eyes were sunken and uninterested. By now, the Chicagoian bastille...
I sat in my room, my nose dripping blood onto my cedar desk. My palms rested on the wood, and my skin was as pale as starlight. In front of me lay a small thin point syringe. I had bought it a few days before. It was filled with diluted fentanyl. I stared at it with longing eyes. My gaze cut holes in the desk, lasering down cedar and sending fumes billowing from the wood. The syringe was filled with narcotic lifeblood. My escape to Neverland was always preluded by this stare off. Me vs. it. Like two cowboys staring each other down before tak...
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