Published in Spilt Infinitive

“Taking the acid from the bus boy had been a dumb idea. That was last night after close, when she was loopy and tired and flush with tips. Now Stacy was hiding in the Pizza Hut bathroom, her shift not ending for another hour. She leaned against the cool of the mirror. Her head hurt. Bad.  She tried not to think about the people who went in and out of the Hut’s bathrooms, their nasty hands touching everything. The cool just felt too good to move. The bus boy’s acid had been dirty stuff, and when the fun of the drug wore off, Stacy tried to sleep but jitter-jangled instead. “Shit’s cut with rat poison,” Sal told her, “S’what keeps you up, makes you shake.” Stacy didn’t know if it was true, but she sure as hell hadn’t slept.”

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