3

I woke up in the morning to a whole carton of empty cigarette boxes. I grew frantic, my hands shaking and tearing apart my room for just one. I started to cry and grew frustrated and hysterical. I pulled all of the drawers off of my dresser and dumped them out, digging and searching through my clothes. I no longer knew what I was looking to find, but I did know that if I didn't look, I would never find it. My mind was racing, and with every wave of pain my fingers gripped my hair. I felt a hint of illness, and tore through my bedroom to my bathroom door, vomiting intensely when I got there. I had eaten very little for dinner the night before, but it seemed endless. It frightened me to feel this way, heaving and crying and out of control. Right away, I saw the orange prescription bottle sitting on the sink. When the sickness seemed to have subsided, I grabbed it, pouring pills into my hand and swallowing them as fast as I could. I gulped water greedily and watched myself in the mirror as I gulped down pill after pill between my pale lips. I hadn't showered or shaved for three days, and this was the first time I had even noticed my stringy hair.

I reentered my room and picked up some clean clothes from the mess on the floor. Defeated, I looked out the window. With a coat, hat, and shoes already on, I knocked nervously on Isaac's bedroom door. "Yes?"

"Ike, I need cigarettes. Do you want to drive me to the store?"

"You can't drive yourself?"

"I took too many pills." I said, "I don't want to go alone."

Isaac opened the door, "How'd you take too many pills?"

"I was having an anxiety attack over my cigarettes." I felt the perfectly numbing sensation start to overcome me. For a moment, I was afraid I might fall over, but I shook my head. Refocus. The cigarettes. I needed them. I could feel it. Even through the drugs.

"Taylor..." Isaac said, frustration making jagged edges around his gentle tone, "Fine. I'll drive you. But don't make this a habit."

"Thank you, Isaac."

The truth really was that Isaac had wanted an excuse to get out of the house. I could tell by how he practically pushed me out the door before anyone in the house could get in our way. We stopped at the convenience store at the end of the street. It was small, but true to it's name: Convenient. We parked in the empty lot, and entered, Isaac visibly cringing at the bells that announced our arrival. He disappeared quickly between the isles, and I walked straight to the counter.

I didn't look up as I muttered a cigarette brand name and grabbed a few of the miscellaneous items that immediately surrounded me. My wallet felt like it weighed eight pounds in my heavy hands.

"Can I see some ID?"

What, did I look twelve? The thought crossed my mind, and for a number of moments I didn't do anything at all.

"Hello... sir, can I see some ID?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I reached in my wallet and placed my license in her girl hands.

"Jordan T. Hanson. I thought that was you." She said, gently placing my license back in my hand. Oh, I get it, so she just wanted justification of my identity. I was undergoing some kind of analysis. I saw how it was.

"You could have asked." I muttered.

"I know, but I'm shy." She said, softly.

"Can't be too shy... or you wouldn't have said anything." I was trying to make a joke, but the words came out sounding bitter. She rang up my purchases, hesitating a response. I felt immediately bad, and I looked up at her for the first time, afraid I had hurt her feelings. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to sound like a jack ass. I'm just shy, too. And I say stupid things..."

"It's okay." She said, with a smile, "It's just... I have your record at home, and I think it's awesome. It's... it's cool to see you here."

I felt a pang at the mention of our music, and again I looked down at my far-away hands. I forced a polite smile, which, no doubt, with the influence of the pills and the general effort it took, contorted my face in such a way that it wasn't really a smile at all. I had forgotten to reply to her, and the next few moments of silence were awkward and oppressive. Isaac approached, adding his items to the pile. Cutting the imaginary string between this girl and I. She regarded Isaac with a gentle smile.

"$47.71 is your total." She said, and I began to question whether I was participating in this moment or not. I handed her my credit card, and she placed our things in a bag. Isaac was already halfway out the door when she handed me the plastic sack. I nearly left it behind when I turned to follow him, but she placed her hand on my arm.

"Wait."

I stopped, turned, and looked at her for the first time in the eyes. They were brilliant. A gradient of green, pale in the centers and vivid like new leaves around the edges. I had never seen eyes with color so rich. I was mesmerized, and that was the first thing I noticed about her.

"I'm sorry about your loss." Is what she said next, and my eyes immediately filled with tears. I turned away quickly, before I was crying again, but there was another tug on my arm.

"Hey, don't forget this."

"Oh," I said, quietly, taking the sack from her hands and avoiding her eyes. "Thank you."

"Hey, chin up, Taylor Hanson." She raised my face to be level with hers, "It's okay to cry."

My eyebrows creased, and tears began dripping off of my chin. Silently. I shook my head and I left the store, wiping my face roughly with my palms.

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