Fiction

1 || sniffing vicodin in paris @ ICN

playlist for freudian slips, no. 1.

THE HIDEAWAY

Dans une Rolls tout est beauté

Luxe, calme et volupté.

C’est pourquoi nous sommes tous d’acc’

Pour la foutre dans le lac.

Ça, c’est la prospérité.

– Romain Gary

광고가 말하듯

롤스로이스 속은 모든게 아름답다

호사스럽고, 조용하고 관능적이다

그래서 우리는 모두 동의한다

저걸 호수에 처넣자고.

이것이 번영이다.

– 로맹 가리

1.

“What did I miss?”

Marcus says over the phone.

It’s 7:30 in the morning and I’m walking out of Arrivals in ICN.

“Nothing, really.” I say, then pause because my voice keeps cracking.

“You watched the whole thing on stream anyway,didn’t you?”

I add after clearing my throat.

“You know how shallow and boring these streams are.” He complains.

My body feels damp from the constant cold sweats.

Moving feels like dragging a mop through mud.

Too much coke and Ritalin, I think.

“I dunno. Does anyone actually look at the clothing at this point?” I consider.

Doing more won’t make a difference.

The last bit of coke I did a few minutes ago is making me feel worse. I hit the bathroom right off the plane. There was no way to make it out of the airport without a line. The walkways were too crowded and the air was too dry.

“Who cares about clothes? I need two months per year in Paris minimum , otherwise I become lethally depressed.” Marcus remarks.

Marcus says something else but I miss it. I’m distracted- the people standing outside of the exit. Everyone waiting for someone. Friends and family looking through the crowd, restless. Drivers holding up paper signs with blank detachment. I feel as if they’re all eyeing me. I clench my jaw. My shoulder muscles feel rock hard. I could almost feel the individual muscle strands, tugging in wrong directions. I feel an overwhelming impulse to scream through my teeth. My eyes violently pulsate against their sockets.

I finally spot a sign with my name.

The guy holding it looks so out of it. It takes a minute for him to snap back even when I speak out. He fumbles towards me and yanks the bags off my hands.

I drag myself after him out of the exit and into a black Carnival van parked in front.

I climb on- the van’s back rows were swapped out for a pair of fully reclining cabins. I wiggle the sandals off my feet and pop my toes into the leather.

I close the blinds for the partition dividing the driver’s row and mine. I press one of the massage buttons and light a cigarette. The sound of a door opening then closing- followed by jittering revs from the van’s engine. The sight outside soon starts moving past my sight.

I take long drags from the cigarette and let the nicotine spread out, staring at the navy-and-blue airport shrink away.

Once my hands warm up a little and shake less, I open the fridge between seats for a bottle of water.

I find a bottle of Evian and a bottle of Fiji.

I open the Fiji, take a sip, and throw the cigarette butt inside.

I dig into my pockets to fish out a bottle of Xanax. I pop off the cap and shake out two 0.5 mg tabs onto my palm. I swallow it with the Evian, lie back into the recliner, and tap onto the side of my AirPods. Music start. Eyes shut.

INT/EXT. CARNIVAL /HIGHWAY – DAY.

MUSIC CUE: “NIGHTS”

Round your city round your clock

Everybody needs you

No you cant make everybody equal

Although you got beaucoup family

You don’t even got nobody bein honest with you

Breathe til I evaporated

Wanna see nirvana but don’t wanna die yet

Wanna feel that na na though, could you come by?

Fuck with me after my shift

Know them boys wanna see me broke down and shit

Bummed out and shit stressed out and shit

That’s every day shit

Shut the fuck up I don’t want your conversation

Rollin marijuana that’s a cheap vacation

My every day shit every night shit my every day shit

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