December 11th 1987.

Nikki’s place was a mess and he was right in it, strung out and numb in his king-sized bed. His hair was a tousled mess and he hadn’t showered in a while.

He didn’t feel the need to, why shower if you’ll get dirty again? And showering only made sense if there were people around who complained and girls have stopped coming around a while ago. His priorities had shifted. Smack had been his most loyal and aggressively persistent lover keeping him on a tight leash. There was no breaking the cycle today. It was his birthday if anything he’d treat himself since nobody had decided to show up or give him a call anyway and it was past noon.

In his substance induced delirium he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or if the doorbell had actually rung. He raised his head and sure enough the outside the window he could see the silhouette of a woman waiting outside. A gift from the band?

His voice was hoarse when he called out from not having talked in a while “Who is it?”