At midnight I took a shot of Jager and the hot burning in my belly gave rise to unintentional desires.“I think I have to leave tonight.” I told Andy, and he frowned at my dreary eyes. “But I’m going to need some blow.” The hippie bartender that smelled like grass and told me he loved me would know where to get some, I thought, and he did. I told Andy it was time to go home and pack and he frowned against my newly brightened glance. Three hours passed in our tiny apartment and my life sat in piles by the door. Andy carried me piece by piece into the back of that beat up Jeep until we both knew it was time for me to leave. At three-thirty in the morning I jammed the oversized screwdriver into my lack of an ignition and left Charlotte behind to the crisp dark.

Tired and fighting I inhaled the only thing keeping me awake as I sliced the air in front of me for a hundred miles. The weight of my eyes was beginning to win the war against the last bitter bump and I reached blindly into the cup holder in an attempt to regain consciousness. Pulling the tiny bag towards me and into the lights of the highway, I saw it was empty. Fuck me fumbling to turn on the interior light I looked down and saw the crude powder littered in the ashtray and knew that finding any of it would be searching for snowflakes in a puddle. Five hours left to drive and I ran a finger along the edges of the console, hoping for even a memory of alertness. It was going to be a long drive.

Bickering with the night for another hour it was time to get a cup of coffee. The streets made no sense to me that night as sign after unfamiliar sign whipped in the distance in long green trails behind me. Where the fuck am I – I clumsily struggled to check the GPS, to reassure myself I was on eighty-five, on a highway I had driven one hundred and twelve times, and driven to him three. Two hundred miles now and I swore I should have been there in the tenth hour of this six hour drive. Towns that never existed before lay like the dead one after another on the deserted highway and shitty truckstop coffee was no substitute for sanity.

The road blurred in front of me in long stretches of nothing and time stood still as I traveled with my eyes closed. The sun never rose that morning as black yawned into greys and sharp dashboard greens wavered against the coming light. As the sky illuminated my sallow face the city of Richmond lay dormant on the left side of the highway and though I knew I was on the right road, I still couldn’t recognize a thing. I stopped again desperate with sleep and puckered my mouth, dry and sticky with bitter coffee and too many cigarettes, but my bendered body surrendered without choice as a hundred miles taunted me to leave it all ahead.

As I slapped my face to stay awake I saw the first signs pulling on my memory, taking me to him, and I knew I was going to make it after all. Fourteenth street was longer than ever as I crawled my way towards Columbia Heights and I found myself turning down Park as the time trickled past nine-thirty. I parked my car illegally, leaving my life in the back, and taking only my laptop up to the porch, littered familiar with empty beer cans and cigarettes smoked straight to the filter. This is his house. I found the long and slender man stretched oblivious in the basement and curled my way under his arms, the third time I would take him by surprise. With half my life in my car and the other half in his basement, I finally made it home.

Black.
Fuck me fumbling.
Where the fuck am I?
The sun never rose

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