Drop #57: A Night

6 pm

I removed a grasshopper with red legs from the shower before I took one. I kept trying to remember what it was I was supposed to be worrying about, but I couldn’t. I tasted blood and wondered what part of me was bleeding.


9 pm

There was a lot of laughter coming from inside but it was of the obnoxious kind, not the warm, harmonious kind.

“I know he’s a fag but I love him,” she sighed, looking over at Quentin.

“He certainly is a loveable fag,” I answered quickly, and headed indoors, unwilling to bear another outpour.


11 pm

“Do you have any drugs?” I asked. The room was messy and too bright.

“I have malaria pills,” Clint answered, his face like a boxer’s, with nose all bent out of shape.

“Malaria pills?”

“Yeah, Lariam – Mefloquine Hydrochloride – left over from my trip to Ghana.”

I stared at him.

“Want a cigarette?” He asked.

“No, I don’t smoke.”

We decided to crush the pills and snort them. Then we parted ways.


3 am

The TV was on with the volume off. “I’ve been doing much better now,” she said, “now that I have stopped with the treatment. I don’t cry myself to sleep like a baby every night anymore.”

“Good… good.”

“It sounds silly and redundant but the only point in life is to live it properly.”

“You are absolutely right,” I said, nodding, but I was thinking instead about the time I fell down in the street and a Russian guy helped me up before riding away on his green bicycle.


6 am

I rolled over onto my back; then quickly sat up to drink from the glass of water next to the bed.

She looked at me as if I was mad. “Did I tell you to stop?”


8 to 9 am

I followed a kid for two blocks after glimpsing his T-shirt across the street. ‘SCHOOL’S OUT, SURF’S UP’, it said, and I wanted to check if the words were apostrophed.

At home, I assembled a new electric tower fan for my study before going to sleep.

By E.M. Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

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