Obey the instructions.
Lock the stall door. Wait for the guy at the urinal to head back into the library after not washing his hands. Take that dime bag out. “We know you want to,” the demon flirts. A tiny, oblong crystal shard, resting on the chrome TP dispenser, smashes under the weight of your palm and debit card. You snort it up through the George Washington straw. Dragon fire surges through the sinuses, burning three layers deep into your brain. Drip, drip, drip to the back of your throat.
“Good for now,” that demon sings.
Omar Hussain is a writer from the San Francisco Bay Area, transplanted to Ann Arbor, Michigan. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Jellyfish Review, X-R-A-Y Magazine, Tiny Molecules, The Cabinet of Heed, Ellipsis Zine, Spelk, Lunate, and Dream Noir, among others. Twitter: @ORyanHussain. Linktree: https://linktr.ee/orh.