Portrait of a Drug Dealer

“The off ramp came as a surprise. Mechanically, I turned the steering wheel. Windshield wipers were keeping time with the pulsing bass pumping out the amp in the trunk, rain sliced through the night sky pelting a dreary line of soulless metallic shells. My knuckles were white, my palms sweaty. As I tried to light a cigarette, the numbness permeating my whole body intensified in my thumb, thwarting my attempts to spark the lighter. I had lost too much blood. Tears came rushing to my eyes, bu...