Chris sat at the table that was stationed between the radiator and the bed. He felt lousy from the powdery substance he did between the time he woke up until now. Chris was an addict. No one knew it. They could not know Chris did so much dope that he would cut the lights off and keep checking the windows to see if that imaginary sound or that unbelievable urge to make sure his mama was alright... he could not call. 

Chris's uncanny drug use started after his father got murdered. He was selling and using cannabis, but it was controlled. When Antonio Dellacrose left the Earth, his family shattered. There was a lot of things going around. Chris had excused himself from his mother and everyone else. After he went away, his mother went to Florida.

His phone's message alert was signaled, and he picked up it up from the drawrer, unlocked it, accessed his voice mail, and it was the boss reminding him that there was a party tonight. He thought to himself... Is the pope in town? He flicked his eyes some because his joke reflected him returning to a reasonable amount of brain chemicals.

He wanted to call, but instead he keyed in a quick, simple text. 

It was a little chilly in the room, so Chris turned up the heat. He sat down to have a cigarette, a menthol. Now, he was going to give himself an hour, and shower and get a cup of coffee and get dressed. It was either going to be his watch, or his necklace. He'd put on what felt right.