Member-only story
Night of Crimes
“Superstition ain’t the way”- Stevie Wonder
It was June 23rd, 2023.
“Would you like a hit?”
I was slumped against a fence on the side of the road dissecting some crusted blood from my right eye when I heard that phrase reverberate through my skull. Did we discuss this already?
“What is it again?” I inquired.
“Meth, do you know where we’re going?” he asked, pulling me off the fence.
I shook my head no and I remembered once again we did have this conversation before. Twice? Four times? Six times? I wasn’t sure.
“Should we take this car?” the strange man asked, gesturing towards the blue Nissan 240SX in front of us.
Was this his car? We walked around the beach in circles for a while so surely he would’ve mentioned if he had a car. He peered through the Nissan’s windows when my concussion granted me a brief moment of clarity. No, no this was not his fucking car.
Now I’m certain I’ve just painted myself to look like I’m strung out on the side of the road committing grand theft auto to any random passerby.
I’m neither.
TWO DAYS EARLIER
I was at home baking zucchini bread for the Summer Solstice and trying to figure out what the hell a “moon…
