It’s Sunday morning. The laughter of little children playing outside woke me up. Little bastards. What time is it? It’s so dark in my room. Oh, wait, the curtains are covering the windows. I reach for my phone. It’s 9am. F***ing children. I wish they drowned so I don’t have to deal with their annoying, irritating laughter on their way back from the beach. I stand up. My vision is blurred, my body is weak, and I fall back in my bed. I see a red spot on my pillow. I touch my face just to find the dry blood under my nose. The room smells like cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. Everything is spinning, my brain feels numb. I’m trying to remember what happened last night… no success. My memories faded away as the greenish, shiny liquid sipped down my throat and the pile of snow-white powder was sitting on the glass table, with a few brown rocks on top of it, quite resembling cinnamon. This explains the blood. By the time I manage to crawl out of bed it’s already noon. Gradually, I come back to ...