could impose on him. He had to be responsible. Goddamn. He checked Facebook but nothing had changed. No one interesting online. He was restless, jumpy staring at this ceiling, trapped in this little box that was his room. He grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door. He was going to buy cigarettes, get this shit off his mind. He put his headphones on and walked out the door. Some days, you just can’t escape. Even advertisements are just unwelcome intrusions triggering unwanted associations in your head. Tailor made to pick the sore spots in your life. A bus shelter – ‘Lose your license and you’re screwed.’ A chocolate bar poster on a billboard at the lights. ‘Give in to temptation.’ Two female lips seductively biting the chocolate bar. What was this shit? How was this allowed to clutter the street? His phone vibrated. His dealer ‘sorry bro im out’ Fuck. He scrounged in his pockets for his last smoke, and swore again. He’d forgotten a lighter. His blood was itching for nicotine and his fingers for itching for something to do, and his brain was itching with thoughts tumbling all over themselves. And he couldn’t get weed. And he just wanted a cigarette. There was an option – a hobo sitting by a tree, feeding the birds and smoking a cigarette. He didn’t really want to do it… ‘Hey, could I grab a light?’ The old man’s bloodshot and droopy eyes flicked upwards to meet him. His eyes were watery, slightly yellow and bloodshot. His wrinkled face arranged itself into a snaggle toothed grin that made Josh slightly uneasy. ‘Ey, mate! Of course!’ The old man sounded delighted. Josh was beginning to regret this already. ‘Sit down, grab the light!’ 17
Hearsay: On Dit's creative writing edition.