Jordan Spurling - Column
It’s 11:24 a.m. and you need your fix. You grab your iPhone and send a quick text to
your friends asking if they want some too.
You leave your dorm room and meet up with your posse outside, then out on
your way to get the goods. You sprint up
the stairs, noticing the void in your body is stronger than ever. You open the door and find out that you’re
not alone. Thirty other feens stand
around, huddling together wanting the same thing you want. You reassure
yourself that there will be plenty to go around, but let’s face it; you want
the fresh stuff, not something that other people have had the chance to dig
through. There’s an awkward silence in the room. Everyone just stands around saying nothing,
not moving their heads, only their eyes.
Then suddenly, to break the silence and anxiety, a quite but yet ear
piercingly loud “click” is heard.
Everyone begins to file towards the door, grabbing at their wallets to
pay to get their fix of satisfaction.
You see the dealers standing inside, looking at you, knowing their time
to serve has come. Get ready for the
rush people; it’s lunch time.
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