James was feeling the usual rush. His reoccurring anxiety ridden thoughts were gone, replaced with infinite imagination. All the pain of withdrawal had left him, he felt so much better. He was sitting on the cold dark floor of his cabin, running his fingers through his dark brown hair.
Earlier in the day, James had been able to slip out of the camp to but more of what his body was craving. Despite the conversation with Malcolm, he was still going to get high. Why would he stop if it just made him feel good?
Then he heard a knock on his door, he didn’t react. The door opened, revealing Rosemary, looking as beautiful as she always did. He smiled towards her, saying, “Rosemary, hey.” Forgetting how bad he looked and how easy it was to tell he was drunk.