If You Take the Thing

Jack jumped on the train. After a night of busy drinking he was jumping a lot actually. But that's how he felt, jumpy, happy. And as he swing around the pole to sit on nearly uninhabited car he smelled that smell. The culprit was easy to spot, just over there on the other side. He let thick smoke loose from his lips and the two of them locked eyes. They laughed, together, almost instantly. Jack took that as an invitation and jumped over.

"I knew someone was having a good time!"

The other man smiled and nodded his high little head. His hand outstretched a microscopic dirty-looking roach. Hell, Jack thought, why not? So he took the thing, not knowing how, and took a hit, or at least what he could of one seeing as how he was nervous he'd suck in the thing itself. He took another hit and heard

"Really? There are cameras."

and looked around to see one of the other gentlemen on the train, standing, looking at these new friends. Not looking down on them, but just finding the whole thing rather curious. After all, he was right, there were cameras.

The roach man got up and opened the emergency door to the next car. Jack followed, stubbing out the roach on the new blue seat. Jack had never passed between cars while the train was in motion. It was a night of questionable firsts. But it was an easy thing to do, far easier and far less terrifying than he'd made it out to be. But moving to the next car wasn't enough. What if someone had been watching that camera? What is there were cops around? What if there were officials waiting at the next stop? Is this Jack's own paranoia or did his inhales help the fabrication?

The train stopped and he jumped through the doors and ran up two more cars. He had to distance himself. He had to put this all behind him. Luckily, he only had one more stop to go. A short ride to safety.

Which he made. And he was safe. He walked down the stairs and down the street in triumph. He had taken chances. Just said yes! Was this living? He wasn't sure. It was something.

A sharp and throbbing pain in his finger. Jack went to dull it in his mouth but there was no relief. His canines felt a bump. Examining the finger he saw a raise, a burn. That goddamn roach had burned him. He took the thing, not knowing how. What else was he supposed to do? It was so small! He just had to grab the thing and do it! But if you take the thing, thought Jack, and you don't know how, he supposed you just might get burned.