In the Basement, In the Sky

Four

"Atreyu!"

You look up from the box you're unloading when you hear James the Night Shift Manager's voice from up the stairs. You look down at all the bracelets around your wrist and slide them off with clean, quick movements, covering them in some shirts. Then you go back to hanging things up for inventory, and you look over your shoulder and call, "Yeah?"

Footsteps thunk down the stairs. Even though they make you wear these stupid button ups, at least you can wear boots at night.

James peers down into the room, empty but for you. Having someone do this one at a time almost 24/7 probably benefits them, but it really cuts into your hours.

But then he gives you that weird, cheeky half grin he does when he's telling someone a secret, and he says, "We want to hire you on full-time after the holidays."

Now, you knew this, of course, because you overheard him last week. But to hear it aloud, spoken directly to you, is something else entirely.

It'll be the first time in years you'll have real, long term work.

"Would I still be working down here?" you ask, even though you can deal with shitty customers if it means Kylie can deal with that horrible kitchen less. You're already going to say yes. But if you can get a little more out of it by playing coy, well, why not, right?

"Yes," James says. "You'll still be working down here, just more hours a day and more days a week. Between 38 and 40. Otherwise, nothing will really change."

"Then yeah!" You beam, trying not to seem too overly excited, but wow, full time work!

"All right. You have until Friday to get your drug test done. I'll give you the paperwork and address at the end of the shift, okay? You can't come back until it comes back negative, but no worries, right?"

Drug test. Right now you'd test positive for, like, everything. Molly. Amphetamines. Benzos. Weed. Even just weed would be bad enough, but all that other shit, too?

Should you just quit?

"Okay." It comes out of your mouth of its own will, an agreement to something you know you'll fuck up but have to try anyway.

Guess you're getting some niacin on your way home. It's time for a burn.

Thankfully there's a 24-hour pharmacy on your bus route not too far from your apartment, so you get off a few stops early and pick up some 500mg niacin. You grab a bottle of 5-HTP, too. Maybe it will help with the sad emptiness you feel when you're alone.

Nobody asks what it's for. Why would they? You could just have a deficiency, and it's sold over the counter. It would be like asking why you're buying aspirin.

You dump the two bottles in your backpack so you don't have to pay the bag tax and make your way home.

Kylie isn't up yet. He miraculously has two days off in a row, even though he'll start paying for it when he goes back in tomorrow. But for now, you let him sleep. You pour a glass of water and down a 5-HTP. Then you turn the niacin bottle around on the counter a few times while you do some math in your head.

Normally a niacin burn would last four to five days. You have two. So if you need to take 500mg twice a day on a normal burn, you'd need...

Well, shit. This is going to fucking suck.

You down three pills and lie down on the couch. The heat's finally back on and Kylie has it going, so you don't need a blanket.

You try to sleep.

---

You don't.

About an hour later, you have to throw the blankets onto the floor because you're so hot and uncomfortable, and you try to lie back and breathe through it, but it's so, so, so hot, and the only thing you want right now is the coldest bath your faucet can manage. It's winter so the water will actually be cold.