“Seattle” by Leroy Simpkins

Image result for seattle downtown homeless

It’s been three days on this miserable Greyhound bus, the only relief comes when
we stop in some unknown town, the type that youthful residents dream of one day
escaping. But they did offer a chance to inhale fresh air, and head to the nearest
alcohol refueling station. Stop by stop our group of lost souls would frantically seek to
calm the lonely chaos brewing within. When will this end, I thought, hopelessly trying to convince myself there was actual purpose to my journey. Finally, in the far distance I
could see the space needle, almost there. Another town, another nightmare. I’d
managed to save a couple hundred dollars, a rarity for me. First stop, the nearest liquor
store. There she was, sitting on the cold concrete. “Do you have a cigarette”? She
inquired. “No, but if you show me around, I’ll buy you some” The useless chatter went
on, and the more I drank the less patience I had Finally I asked “why in the hell are
you out here like this” She looked at me and said “I’m a junkie, a heroin addict.” I’d
never seen anyone shoot up before, so I challenged her to prove it. Give me twenty
bucks and wait right here. Here we go I thought, but I was in deep, so I took the
chance. A few moments later she returned. We rented a room and the hell I was in got
even hotter. She became my infatuation, the combination of the drugs and her flesh
consumed my every moment. Eventually I moved on, I couldn’t die that way. I haven’t
seen her in twenty years, but I still can’t forget that day we met.

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