"So Soon"

Josh Ramsay sat at the kitchen table, listening to the seemingly louder-than-usual tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall behind him. The time was somewhere between two and four in the morning, but he didn't care to waste the energy to turn around to find out for sure. He knew it was dark, he knew he was alone and he knew he was exhausted. He closed his bloodshot eyes to try to stop the slight burning, but it didn't help. He hadn't slept for days and everything around him felt like it was too much. The air outside was too cold in his lungs, but the air inside was too hot on his skin. The soft lighting in the room was too bright and gave him a headache as well as made his eyes sting. His own breathing was too loud and his heart beat too hard in his chest. But his body felt too heavy and too tired to drag himself across the house and down to his basement bedroom, so he sat where he was for hours, staring into space and occasionally tracing a thin finger over the patterned tablecloth.  

Yawning, Josh picked up the lighter in front of him and flicked it on, allowing the spark to dance for several seconds before letting go and relighting it. He did this several times, entranced by the heat and the colours. He gently blew out the fire and set the lighter back down on the table in favour of picking up a small folded sheet of tin foil with a blow of heroin resting in the center. He stuck a thin tube between his lips and grabbed the lighter once more, expertly flicking it on and holding the fire beneath the tin foil until the powder turned to liquid and started to smoke. He inhaled the vapours slowly and methodically, feeling the drug seep into his system.  

The tall, lanky eighteen year old set everything down on the table as he leaned back in his chair with a feeling of calmness that he hadn't felt in nearly a week. Shit, he was fucked, but he needed this. Josh leaned forward again and heated the heroin until smoke rose and danced in front of his face for a second time. He inhaled through the cardboard tube twice, then a third time before there was nothing left on the tinfoil but a black smudge on the underside. He crinkled the foil in his hand and set the tight ball on the table as he laid the lighter and tube beside it. 

The overwhelming feeling that life was slowly crushing him had subsided, thank God. He was somehow content and felt more alive than he had since the last time he had smoked, which was a bit of a miracle in itself, because Josh was never relaxed. His mind constantly raced, jumping from one subject to another, never slowing, never stopping. The only thing that made sense in his head was music, but even that was a chore lately. Too many ideas were jumbled up inside of him and he couldn't get them out unless he had heroin in his body.  

Josh finally felt like he had the energy to devote to working on a song that had been eluding him for months, so he shoved his chair back, stood, jammed the tinfoil ball, the lighter and the tube into his pocket, and made his way to his basement bedroom. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed, making notations on music staffs to represent the melodies he could hear in his head. One note or chord at a time revealed themselves as his hand flew across the page, erasing things that didn't sound right and adding things that did. 

When he finally ran out of ideas, he still wasn't out of energy. Josh needed someone to consult with but the only one he was close to was Matt Webb, his younger friend, classmate and fellow musician. Not giving a thought to the time, Josh reached over, grabbed the phone from the desk and dialed Matt's phone number. 

"Whoever this is better have a damn good reason for calling," answered a voice, thick with sleep. 

"Dude, it's me!" Josh pushed himself to his feet and sat on the bed. 

"What? Josh? Do you have any idea what time it is?"  

"I don't fuckin' know, dude. Listen, I'm working on this song and I need your help. Wanna come over?" Josh stood again and paced across the floor while he talked. He might have felt relaxed, but his body wouldn't stop moving.