Airplanes

So here I am, atop a small hill on the outskirts of a nameless town outside of LA. The white powder is cupped in my hands and it smiles up at me with a disgusting look of greed and want. It got me here; in this god-forsaken hellhole doing the dirty stuff just to pay rent. I spent my life on this powder. I know what it is, what it wants, and Lord knows I want it too. I crave it, I need it, my nose starts to tingle. My head is swirling as I start to come down. One more bump, and I'll be okay. Just one... My eyes are watering, not from sadness, just from anger. At the world, at life, at myself. I raise the palm with the powder up to my face. A tear lands dead in the middle and makes a damp circle. Now it's ruined. Anger rages out of nowhere inside my chest. This was the last of it. This was the good stuff. I lost everything for this. I shut my eyes and swallow the anger. I push it down to my toes and soon it's gone. I raise my palm to my lips and blow the powder into space. I open my eyes too see a beautiful cloud of white whisp around me and get carried away by the summer breeze. My head still spins, but my heart is still. My feet stay planted and I know I've done right. I breath in slowly and feel the warm air fill my lungs. My nose still burns and my eyes water as I make my way down the hill.