heads up.

this will now be the start of a historical fiction, a loose non-fiction.

remember back in the 1900s when books would be released chapter by chapter in a magazine? i don’t. but, it is a compelling concept.

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I really did just drive over an orange spray paint can. The air is sticky, drafting in from the Gulf Stream, making sure the lowcountry never loses its world renowned humidity. I sweat.

 I can’t believe it. This is ridiculous. Don’t even stop. I’m supposed to get to this personal lender, get a few thousand from them and then a nice pack of pills from Melissa all within an hour, but I know it will be much closer to 2 hours. I have my information on file at the lender so I am guessing, hoping, praying to dear God it will be a very quick process. It’s whatever though, if I have to wait I will wait, I will call out from work for the afternoon, I’ll do what I need to in order to keep the withdrawals at bay. I really have succumbed. This spray paint could work in my favor actually. hmmm . okay okay.
Jump to scene in his brain of interaction with loan officer.
“Yeah i need a loan to fix up my car cause of the paint and other little dings in it. Feel free to come outside and take a look.”
The loan officer, a well-put-together black women, mid thirties, just glances out the window front of the office. There is no way she can see the car or have a good angle that I telling the truth, sort of. 

“Oh, it’s on the other side of the lot, but I can bring it around.” I try to not sound paranoid, but I’m quite sure I do.

She just stares at her computer and makes a slow long sigh sound, like a mother who is deciding if her son can spend the night over at Stephen’s evne though she prepared a nice dinner. 

The pause is too much for me. 

“Hey, okay, the truth is, yes I did somehow just run over a random spray paint can and it did explode over my car, but I could care less about the aesthetic appearance of my car. What I really care about is pills. I am a drug addict and I just ran out of money from my job which pays $42,000 a year. Yes, I am 23 years old. I pay no car insurance, car payment, cell phone payment, nothing except for $500 per month rent and maybe some utilities if I feel like. I currently have an open tab with my roommates.”

She is still staring at her screen, as if she didnt even hear me.

I stand and yell now. 

“I’m a drug addict and need money or else I may go into withdrawals and that means coming clean to people and seeking help. We cannot let that happen.” 

She slowly turns to me. 

“You have a current balance with OneMain Financial of $2147 dollars, including interest. I can give you $2853 to make it an even $5000, but the interest of the overall loan will increase from 14% to 26%.”

Her tone is robotic. 

NO emotions. No care at all about what I just hurled upon her. 

I doubt I can control my excitement. 

“Yes that will be fine.”