The Perfect Drug

I stared at the white pill in my hand. A tiny candy cane had been painted across the middle. Some people called it Christmas, most people just called it J.

There was no one left to stop me.

The drug dealer named Preacher urged me on. “You’re making the right decision, J will save your life. It’s so good, you’ll want all your friends to join you.”

“I don’t have any friends. Not any more.”

“Then you’ll make new ones. That’s the beauty of J. It breaks down barriers. It’s so good.”

Preacher seemed too enthusiastic. His eyes were wide, his grin smarmy. Somehow all of it was as much his uniform as the black coat hanging over his white turtleneck. He laid a hand on my shoulder. “This shit will carry you though the bad times, it makes the good times feel better, cleaner, more authentic. I personally guarantee that J will be with you for the rest of your life.”

His words were as sincere as a song. He blessed me as I rased my hand to my lips and pressed the pill onto my tongue.

Salvation flooded through me.

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