Andres.

Warmth hits my veins like sex after a long, agonizing dry spell. I take a breath, feeling the air rush through my lungs. Is it my imagination or is the air newer, fresher than the dank shit that was in here only moments ago? I sip at it like a man starving and lean back in the lounge chair, draping my arms over the side. I look at my left arm, at the needle sticking straight out from the vein. I think about reaching over to flick the used needle away, ...