Linc lay back in bed, surrounded by the things most important to him: his beer, housed at his feet in a trusty mini-fridge; his cold meds, a thick, syrupy, green clop contained in tall, trapezoidal plastic bottles; and his cache of illegals. He fingered the leather bag containing the pills and capsules and tablets. Linc glanced at his watch. He needed to get ready; the junior high would be letting out soon, and it was time to scare up some money.
4 Comments
Christa Loughrey
23/2/2024 09:34:51 am
I rather wish I'd stopped reading before the end, then I could have gone away feeling sympathy for this person as a poor drug addict, and not had to re-evaluate him as a predatory monster!
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Bill Tope
27/2/2024 12:36:32 am
Sorry to be such a downer, Christta, but Paul is right; I was pillorying him, not lionizing him. Thanks for the commentt.
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Paul A. Freeman
23/2/2024 11:47:35 pm
These people are out there - unfortunately.
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Bill Tope
27/2/2024 12:38:17 am
Like I told Christa, this is a reflection of our sad times, and nt an endorsement. Thanks for writing, Paul
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