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of a relationship with Trey?
Which would come first?
The meth? Or me?
I’m Glad
I have a little of my own stash
left this morning. I’d never make
it through work otherwise. It’s
damn little, but enough to help me
shake off the no-sleep goofiness.
And hey, later today I’ll have more
than enough to make up for it.
At least Hunter didn’t need
attention before I got up, got
dressed, and left for work, three
whiffs of ice my only breakfast.
I know I should eat something.
Just don’t know how to manage
that, with my stomach turning
cartwheels. The meth is only half
to blame. The other half is my
brain, which won’t leave Trey at
the back of it. He’s front row, center.
I’m in a pheromone fog
as I make coffee, stock rows
of cigarettes, mop up a customer’s
mistake. Mindless work, and there’s
always more when I’m finished
with what I’m doing. Except when
it gets busy, I leave the cash
register math to Midge, who’s
