Nikki Layne

At the Mind's Edge: A Drug Addict's Story

It was a chilly evening in southern California, where I found myself tensely standing on the front porch of a stranger. Steeling my nerves, I knocked three times on the door in front of me. Almost instantly, it opened, revealing a woman. Like a child in a candy store, she intently eyed me, her inspecting gaze doing nothing to hide her building nervousness and excitement. We introduced ourselves, awkwardly shook hands, and she promptly invited me inside. The apartment was neatly cared for, but quite bare, carrying the feeling of a sterile laboratory. A table and two folding chairs were all the furniture that was in the main living room. Plain, white, undecorated walls left the place feeling all the more empty. We sat down, and after a few minutes that felt more like an eternity of idle chatting, she stood and made her way over towards her bedroom, beckoning me to follow her. 'Thank God,' I thought to myself. Small talk had never come easy to me, so I was thankful that portion of the night was finally over.