from Disorder by Israfel Sivad

What got me off the streets that August started a few weeks before I bumped into my mom. I’d moved in with this 21-year-old girl who was addicted to heroin. Over a decade younger than me, she’d approached me while I was strolling along minding my own business, contemplating my role during the apocalypse, and she’d asked if I knew where she could find “coke or H.”

Having spent most of the summer homeless, I was pretty sure I ...