Work
2022-10-04, 2:03 a.m.

Cold and rainy sitting here alone in my office watching the raindrops trickle down my window.

The empty storefront next to our office has been converted into a convenience store but in reality, it's a drug spot.

The stench of them smoking weed nonstop drifts through every orifice and fills my workspace. My throat is sore from inhaling this shit and my brain is bombarded with rap music on an endless loop.

There is no high off this if that's what you are thinking.

This is supposed to be my quiet time to think about my life and this Guantanamo Bay noise torture is ruining it.

Darlene's flight out of the country to visit Fram’s sister is next week and deep down I'm afraid. Outwardly I support her 100 percent on this endeavor but I'm not ok with it.

I don't want her to go but I know this is something she has to do.

The music has finally stopped so I'm guessing the drug spot is calling it a night. Maybe, I can open a window and air out this place.

These shitheads should at least throw me some cash because now I have the fucking munchies.