I could sense the nineteen-year-old before I was even near my apartment. The first thought that I had was, why was there a kid waiting for me? The next was, did someone leave a dead body in front of a blind man's door because the said nineteen-year-old wasn't breathing.
I slowly raised my hand over the body and took the pulse of the nineteen-year-old. Still alive but the heart is elevated, either ran a marathon or judging from the strong smell of vinegar and smoke. A Heroin drug high.
Someone who was running a marathon and collapsed, wouldn't be wearing bagging clothes or smelling like all of New York. A nineteen-year-old who is homeless.
I sighed trying to decide what to do. Having a barely legal adult passed out in front of a lawyers apartment wasn't good at all.
"Okay," I mumbled to myself as I unlocked my door and pushed it wide open. I shrugged my shoulders up and prepared to pick up the unconscious male.
Weight is about 122 pounds. Little underweight but not too bad. He was probably not homeless for long. I kicked the front door closed behind me and made my way to the couch.
After making sure he was secure on the sofa I began to feel his arms for any leftover needles that may still be in his arm. Cold cheap plastic hit my hand and I gently pulled it out of the male's arm, before wrapping up the injury with gaze.
Sighing I seated myself on the floor with my back against the couch. Hopefully, when the junkie walks up he won't be too spooked, I thought losing my tie. And maybe he'll have some answers to why he was passed out on my doorstep.
Peach By; Broods
