an extract from
Taking it in
You’re both in a dark corner, sitting on big padded sofas that look black in the low light. You turn to him and nod agreeably, and he hands you the small, custard cream sized clear plastic bag with the powder in. You take it and hold it between your legs as he sits back and looks up to the ceiling, his jaw flailing around as the whites of his eyes roll over like a capsized canoe.