Howl Davies-The Sounds Inside
I’ve got one hour until my parents are back from the theatre.
I’m at my typically cluttered desk. Textbooks and notes bathed in the sickly glow from a budget mass produced lamp, designed especially to fit the Swedish specifications of a stylish and productive workspace.
There are only two things on my desk that are important right now. On the table is a photograph of me and my best friend, Hugh. It was taken a couple of years back. A school excursion, the typical outdoors experience that’s supposed to build character. It was a weekend of early mornings and shitty experiences, but we made the most of it. Hell, we made it fun.
To my left is a small plastic bag, containing a coarse white powder. Give it to a pharmacist or a chemist and they’ll identify it as ‘Desomorphine’. Show it to a kid my age, or a junkie…
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