You

I remember bright eyes on a sunny afternoon, twinkling vodka promises. The grass was warm and the sky, endless. It is just a snapshot, but I'm glad I saved it. You had your own gravitational pull. The park existed around you, and you collected puppies and small children and men with tall beers in wrinkled brown bags. They passed by on their orbits, unaware of why they were even there. The children smiled and spun off into sand-boxed oblivion. The puppies leapt and tumbled. I was only barely existing. I was one broken guitar away from saying 'fuck it'. There was an amazing freedom in the apathy and absolution. We smoked and looked toward the gleam of glass windows and the quiet of Mission Dolores. All of San Francisco knew. You could smell it on the breeze. A sun-soaked promise...a warning. Everyone sitting on the grass could feel it. They could have warned me. But I'm glad they didn't.

The Deal

He sat in the driver's seat, music low, telling himself this wasn't insane. Paul put the money under an old coffee cup in the holder. He didn't know this dude. Had never seen him before. He tried to breathe evenly...worst case scenario, robbed. Not like anyone is going to kill a stranger in a busy Chevron parking lot. Not like the cops give a fuck.

He saw the man in the rearview mirror. He was big, but not muscle big. His skin was the color of Fall. Black coat, black cap. Paul unlocked the passenger side door and the big man slid in with surprising agility. He reeked like weed...good sign. They did the fist pound. One potato, two potato style. Paul fucked it up.

"You Paul?"
"Yeah, man...what's good?"
"Man, I'm telling you. The purple is fire. Straight fire, man. It's all good, but this is the top shelf. You know...we all about the indica in the Bay."
"Right. Can I ask you something?"
"What up?"
"You advertise on Craigslist...that doesn't, like, sketch you out a little?
"Naw man, you just gotta be careful. You can tell, you know. I knew when I talked to you yesterday you was legit."
"How?"
"You didn't ask no stupid questions. You didn't want to meet right away. You didn't ask me to break the 'ounce rule'...BTW, now I know you straight, so you can buy as much as you want. But that's it, man; you can tell the cops easy. And my boy is over there in that car, so I ain't much concerned, feel me?"
"Yeah, I feel you."

Paul could practically feel the red dot on the back of his head. The big man slapped a ziplock bag into his hands. The car was thick with the smell of it...he looked inside and a smile spread slowly over his face. Magma.

"Yup, that's some good shit, man."
"The best. $35 an eighth, $55 for a quarter, $100 for a half..."
"The money is under the cup, man."

The thick fingers thumbed the twenties.

"You can count it...I would."
"Alright, brother. Your number is in my phone now. Call me anytime. I threw in a gram for making the drive."
"Right on...respect, brother. I'll be in touch."

Paul got the handshake right the second time. He pulled out of the gas station as the man got back in a very nice car. He pulled over when he got around the corner. He laughed and pulled the bag out from the seatback where he'd stashed it. He pulled a bud out and held it up to the sun. Fire. He put the bag in a tupperware container and pulled back onto the main road.

Jesus, Paul thought, you really can get anything on Craigslist.