“I’m not overdosing. And it’s not my fault if someone trolls me. Don’t overreact.”
“Can I have some?”
“You said you weren’t going to use,” Saloni’s voice is wheezy.
The shadow approaches her window. Dun jacket flapping, stick-thin, intimidatingly insectile AR glasses hiding his face, only stubble and crooked teeth showing. A ghostly praying-mantis. He taps at the glass, and she rolls it down a crack.
While Darren was being entertained by Arno in a mysteriously unlocked deli, Leandré, performance over, had left the stage to tumultuous applause. Warmly congratulated by Saloni (after sneaking a peek at her trending social media stats) she and her bestie were amused by rapper, Marcus’ attempts to introduce himself. Saloni pulled Leandré aside, insisting they had to leave.