With boughs of Molly

Dealer

Stevie rounded the corner into the cliche alleyway as he saw a man. A man standing there with a sense of masculinity. Stevie could smell the manliness off him like a hound, but he also couldn't smell or see a trace to which this man has used before.

His feet crunched in the snow. The glistening white snow, covering the slick, icy streets of Manhattan.

"Drug virgin? Or are you just an uber?" Stevie asked in a sing-song voice.

"Fuck you, do you have it?" the mystery man spoke.

"Pssshhh, calm down, young buck. I have your Master's pot; whoever it is you work for. Do they not have legs? Is it the queen of England?!" Stevie fake gasped, making the customer frown at his silliness.

"Wow, you're pathetic." The customer laughed in a try of insulting the 24 year-old, pulling out 185 bucks in cash. 

"I know right?" Stevie smiled, quickly switching the stack of bills with a small bag of weed.

"Is this it?" The man asked with a displeased sneer. His nose scrunched up in a sense of surprise and disbelief.

Stevie didn't answer and continued to walk past the man and out onto the sidewalk of a main road. He did a small heel kick, which no one would notice in the midst of the swarm. The swarm of human bodies all in one place, somehow giving a sliver of heat to the atmosphere. As he slipped the stack of bills in his messenger bag, he thought about when the fuck would Santa Claus show up. He had a few things to say to him.

...

Meanwhile, Joseph, a 32 year-old male, sat at his work desk, typing away on his office computer. Doing the finances of a medical facility isn't the sexiest job, but he did it anyway. Even though his wife, Mary Dinells, left him, taking Arthur and Johnny with her, he was still in for work on Monday, like it didn't upset him. This was the most common coping method of men.

Focus on work; I don't have feelings; Focus on work.

This was his coping method. And he wouldn't let the pain get to him, even if it killed him.

He didn't know that death would come sooner than expected.

The clock stroked 12:15 pm. Lunch time. Joseph got up from his seat and walked out of his office room, where all the cubicles stayed in a organized fashion. As he was walking out of the office room door, one of his co-workers, George, gave him a flyer.

"Hey, Joe, I'm having a Christmas party this Saturday. You should come."

"I dunno, George."

"Aw, Come on man! Everybody's gonna be there! Including Chelsea." George smirked while wiggling his eyebrows. Joseph scoffed and looked at the flyer.

"Fine. I'll be there."

"Yes! Okay! See you tomorrow!"

Joseph walked into the elevator and immediately regretted it. Chelsea, the office slut, was standing on the other side of the door. 

"Hey, Joe. How's the wife?"

"Not so good, Chelsea."

"Are you going to George's party?"

"Yep."

"wow, see you there then." She smiled flirtatiously. Chelsea was worth more than what she lead herself to be. You don't have to be a slut, Chelsea. Be a woman.

"You and George should go on a date. You'd be good together." Joseph responded plainly, then left the elevator doors to go get a cheap sub from the deli across the street.

Chelsea scoffed and went the opposite direction.

As Joe walked his usual route, he thought about his wife and his kids. Her kids, he should say. He didn't want to say though. I think I need to take a break from women, Joe thought. As Joe was walking, not paying attention to the road, a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and quickly pulled him back. Too quickly. He fell on top of someone.

"What the fuck?!" Joseph yelled, then quickly got off of whoever he was laying on and got ready to curse him out, before he saw he was in the middle of the road. In the middle of the road with a guy a complete foot shorter than him.

Stevie got up from the cold concrete, scraping off all the extra snow off his back and ass.

"I'm sorry man, but you were about to get hit by a taxi." Stevie explained awkwardly, scratching the back of his head then ruffling his hand through his own honey-brown curls.

"O-oh." Joseph responded awkwardly. He had no idea. "Thanks."

"Sure! Wanna get lunch?"

"What?"