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<p><br>Like an idiot, I did it again.
<p>I sat in the same goddamn car,
drove down the same goddamn freeway with the
same freaks I did it with last night and the night
before and a million nights more. It had to be
around four or five in the morning, still dark
enough to make us feel like it was just one long
night – but we all knew that the Grey would
come soon.
<p>"I gotta go by an ATM," I said.
<p>"You fucking kidding?"
<p>"I don't have any cash! I gotta go ... unless you to
want spot me."
<p>Ted leaned over from the passenger seat and smiled
at me. I could hear Sully whispering
"fuck" as he guided the jeep to towards the next
offramp.
<p>I'd known Sully since we were sophomores in high
school. I introduced him to coke – gave him his
first line. We hooked up for an amateur's attempt
at drug-dealing, but it went sour –
especially for Sully who fronted the cash.
He didn't lose much money, but he gained a healthy little habit that
now, six years later, was going stronger than
ever.
<p>Now that I think about it, there were more than a
few of my friends in the same fucked up boat.
<p align="right"><a href="alt1.html"><img src="stuff/cont.gif" alt="{ continued }" width="62" height="15" border="0"></a></p>
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