My Type of Heroin

Jackson ran. He glanced back once, but he ran. He wasn’t in the right state of mind, either. If he had been, he would have pinned me to the wall and forced me to go with him. He would have wisped me off my feet and walked me into the safety nets of the light above. This is what drugs do to people, they make their thoughts disproportioned; but one thing I knew for sure was that Samuel Jackson—if that was even his real name—was exactly my type of heroin.