HAVE YOU STOPPED TO THINK THAT YOU’VE BEEN SWIPING YOUR FINGER ON THE SAME SCREEN FOR HALF AN HOUR AND HAVEN’T FOUND ANYONE? I I

Jimmy took a long, deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before slowly exhaling it toward the ceiling. The smoke rose in a grayish column, curling in on itself, dissolving into the yellow light of the lamp. Then he passed me the pipe, a hard transparent glass cylinder, elongated and ending in a ball, a dry pipe, they call it.

“Here. Short hit at first.” At the same time, he offered me a shot of juice and said, “The G takes a little while to come up, but when it does, it doesn’t warn you. The tina you smoked and the G, in the right doses, are going to turn you into a gift of pleasure.”

I accepted the mouthpiece and brought it to my lips. The pipe still held the warmth of his mouth, an intimate detail that made me feel butterflies in my stomach. I inhaled softly, letting the smoke fill my mouth first, then my throat, then my lungs. The taste was sweetish, slightly chemical, masking the GHB that was already beginning to be felt. I held the smoke for a few seconds and exhaled it, coughing slightly at the end.

“Like that, gently,” Jimmy said, watching me closely. “This brings you up, hugs you, and heats you up. But if you overdo it, it knocks you out. And we don’t want that, do we?”

“No,” I said, and my voice sounded different, already more relaxed, as if the words slipped out more easily.

We passed the pipe a couple more times, in silence, letting the smoke fill the room and the substance begin to take effect in my body. At first I didn’t feel anything, just a slight dizziness that could have been suggestion. But then, after a few minutes, I began to feel a warmth spreading from the center of my chest toward my limbs, a softening of my joints, a feeling of buoyancy that made the sofa seem softer, the light gentler, the sounds more distant and enveloping at the same time.

“Do you feel it?” Jimmy asked, and his voice now came from a comfortable distance, as if we were speaking from two ends of a very large room.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“It’s a good feeling, huh? Like everything is fine. Like there’s no hurry.”

I nodded. My eyelids felt heavy, but not from sleepiness. It was more of a pleasant laxity, a surrender of the body to gravity. I let my head fall back, resting it on the sofa, and looked at the ceiling. The shadows from the lamp danced across the white surface, creating patterns that changed endlessly.

“Do you want to shower?” Jimmy asked. “I already did before you came, but if you want to freshen up, the bathroom is at the end of the hall. Clean towels in the cabinet.”

The offer was practical, but we both knew it was part of the ritual. The shower was the point of no return, the moment after which there is no turning back. I slowly sat up, feeling how the G had loosened my muscles, how every movement required conscious but pleasant effort.

“Yes, thanks.”

I got ...