The red light district: a place meant for adult entertainment and indulgence, where nights are filled with all types of illegal activities.

“Lacy’s Ladies” reads the illuminated, neon sign atop of a familiar strip club—the one where you met your dealer at.

Heading down the dark, dimly lit alleyway besides the outside of the building, you’re on your way to meet him.

Leaning against the brick wall stands the purple-haired man, smoking a cigarette as per usual. Noticing you, he turns his head to the side, blowing out the smoke from his mouth before shaking your hand.

“Good to see you again.” He grabs a black, sealed plastic bag from his briefcase. “Just what the doctor ordered: half an ounce of the good ol’ Mary J. You got the $120?”