Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Also, I’m usually more of a jeans-and-sweatpants guy. Luckily, I set my own dress code at my tattoo shop. I’d hate having to wear a business suit to work every day.
I take off my button-down black shirt—which I also never wear, except to funerals—and put on a pair of dry sweatpants. As I slip my feet into a pair of running shoes, my brain comes up with a good excuse to fuel my addiction.
The clinic’s a little out of the way, but that’s a good thing. On a shitty night like this, I need all the endorphins I can get. And the longer the distance I run, the more intense the natural high I get.
Also, I can check on Sarah while I’m there.
Two birds, meet my one stone.
The moment I open the door, the crisp night air fills my lungs with anticipation. My whole body tingles. I feel like a glutton at an all-you-can-eat restaurant. There’s so much for me to consume it’s almost overwhelming.
The clinic is three miles away. Six miles there and back. That’s going to take about half an hour at my usual speed. I expect runner’s high to hit toward the end of the run.
My feet start to pound the pavement. Take it slow and don’t rush into it, I remind myself.
There are only two things in life I get this obsessive about: my art, and my addiction.
I used to weigh nugs precisely too, and I always, always brought my own syringe. I was a drug user, not an idiot. Some would insist a drug user is automatically an idiot, but I’d beg to differ.
The thing is, most people are addicted to something. Sex. Porn. Movies. Video games. Books. Work. Religion. Fucking sugar. Salt. Oh, and here’s a good one: gadgets.
Most people have ignored their families in favor of something else. Most people have an obsession or two.
The trick is to direct the focus of that obsession on something that won’t fuck your whole life up. I check my speed on my smartwatch. The clinic’s signage should come into view in a few minutes.
Peter made the mistake of using nicotine to replace the harder drugs he’d used to enjoy. In the end, it took more than a decade of smoking for the toxins to poison his body with cancer.
If I were being optimistic, I’d say he could’ve died even younger if he’d stuck with the other kinds of drugs.
Twenty-eight.
Damn. Peter died young.
Funny how when I was a little boy, twenty-eight seemed ancient. But now, at thirty-one, I look at any twenty-something and see someone who has a lot of life to live.
My chest burns as I put one foot in front of the other. That’s it. Left. Right. Left.
Life’s a lot like running. A personal apocalypse may have obliterated your world, but time doesn’t stand still. It never does. You still age the same, and to the rest of the world, nothing’s changed. All that’s left to do is keep going.
As Ellis Animal Clinic comes into view, I stare at the front door, remembering the first day Peter and I talked.
We were at my shop, and I was giving Peter his first tattoo. Sarah wasn’t too happy about it—but that was exactly the reaction Peter was hoping to get.
I did feel weird talking to Peter after having just banged his sister on the same tattoo table he was sitting on. But I also thought he was pretty cool. And then he started showing me pictures of his artwork, and he became the coolest person in town.
He may have worked as a veterinarian, but that man was an artist through and through. His confident strokes and bold colors were intriguing, even though I was just looking at tiny versions of them on his phone.
I remember saying, “These must look amazing in person.”
“Want to see them?” Peter asked right away. Later, I learned that he’d been trying to find someone who shared his interest in Ashbourne, to no avail.
“Yes,” I said, as quickly as he’d made the offer. I didn’t realize Sarah was glaring at me until it was too late.
Still, I didn’t think it was going to be a big deal because Sarah had made it clear she’d only wanted a one-time, no-strings-attached thing. It wasn’t like we were going to ever bang again.
Besides, I was just going to see some art, right? Peter and I probably didn’t have much in common beyond that.
There was very little chance I was going to keep either one of them in my life, or so I thought at the time.
I chuckle as I slow my pace, my gaze fixed on Ellis Animal Clinic with its white, back-lit sign and a Peter Ellis original as the logo. It’s a clean, simple, black-and-white design, incorporating the silhouettes of a dog, a cat, and a horse.