by D.L. Cohen
I came home for the holidays last weekend, and like an idiot my first stop was Pearl, my dealer. Less than 24 hours after the plane landed. It's amazing how fast you fall back into old habits. Like a Pavlovian response. A robot voice in my head repeating ‘must get stoned, must get stoned’ from the moment we touched down in New York, over and over until I found myself at Pearl's. There was no Pearl in Costa Rica. And I got over it. The point of my going away was not to sit on Pearl’s couch when I got back and get stoned. And yet here I was.
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