RCS – Business Default

She pushed open the heavy door of the old building, where it reeks of musty,

 after the rot and offers refuge to many drug addicts and

 to their four-legged friends. After mandatory daily

 a dose of methadone is followed by morning socializing in the community

 a heated room with cigarettes, tea and scary stories

 the previous day. There are also dogs waiting in line that look better than

 of their masters and are waiting for the obligatory cookie. To everyone

 mine. Often one runs out overnight. Lament follows

 until the next dose. But the very next day he brings a new one

 an addict. The worst is around Christmas and New Year holidays.

 Then they run away. To the sky…

 I wonder how much genuine sadness there is in those dead eyes, because there is

 have repeatedly proven themselves to be sold souls. Most of the time without money

 they lie, steal, make up impossible excuses and defy themselves

 Many people are still addicted to methadone treatment and are self-inflicted

 new open and hard-to-heal wounds on the body. Mercilessly.

 He gives them methadone, listens to them and looks into their eyes. How much longer…

 He is not there at the appointed time. She had been putting him in the hospital for a long time

 hip surgery, as he no longer walked, but only hopped on one leg.

 When she saw this tall boy with fair hair and

 shining eyes, it gripped her heart. He has no one to take care of him

 for his health. His talent for music dried up in

 at a tender age, when alcohol took hold of his father and mother. It also took

 him. Drugs have been swirling and grinding him for several years. You don’t know anymore

 laugh, cry, emotions are dead. He lives in his own world and it’s up to him

 no matter that no one understands him. Every morning he came with his

 furry friends, but he lost him too. He didn’t cry, he howled

 is at the narration of how he facilitated his death with his Sunday

 doses of methadone. He loved him so much, he only had him

 like The lap remained empty.

But he was only grateful to her for the long conversations and taking care of him

 health, to ignite the spark to get back into the world of music, yes

 would find myself again, to escape the hell of addiction, to feel

 the world around you. When she left for the hospital, she promised him that she would

 visited him on Thursday and supplied him with methadone. She knew he would

 sentenced to a long bed rest after a demanding operation.

 She picked up the phone before the visit. He answered his cell phone

 strangely altered voice. She didn’t recognize him. She attributed the change

 narcosis, which often happens.

 “Hello, hello, Mira here. Are you okay? How did you get through the surgery?

 Are you in a lot of pain? Are you getting pain meds?”

 “It’s okay, I thought it would be worse. Because I have someone on my leg

 prosthesis, I’m already walking, I’ve even been to the park.”

 She was amazed how it was possible that only a few days after the operation

 spinning wheels around. He’s talking about a prosthesis. Impossible!

 “Do you have a lot of work? How are my friends? Did anyone miss you?

 days?”

 The conversation was lively. She reported to him about the current dynamics

 at the methadone center, about the swine flu that some have already

 laid down, about the program she designed for the joint New Year’s

 celebration, and about the new asylum seekers who knocked on the door of the center

 and asked for help.

 She promised him to visit him the next day and said goodbye:

 “See you tomorrow, Nina! I’ll see you!”

 The altered voice replied:

 “I’m not Nino, I’m his neighbor. I’m bored, no one is

 visits. I wanted to talk. Nino is in the shower.’