Dear Anonymous,
He waits until everyone has left. All I can think and feel is...he is so young. He tells me he overdosed yesterday. Alcohol. Meth. He is partly humbled. Partly cocky. Maybe having walked that dizzying line and made it. He tells me this is is 5th or 6th time. I don't really know in this moment if he is grateful to survive or pissed off. I don't know.
He'd like some water. A coffee card. Coffeecake. Socks.
And he drifts off while he continues to speak. Talking on and on. It doesn't seem to matter that no one listens.Now he's down the street. I will beep later as I drive by and he will not lift his head, focusing on the bricks ahead of him.
I asked the other guys about so and so, where's he been?
'Got his 'script. On a benzo bender for 2 or 3 days. Then he tries to steal ours.'
Meanwhile there is a small chorus of thank yous. Thank you Dear Anonymous.