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Tuesday 200 - #31

“You promise not to tell?” Tommy asked, tucking in his shirt and walking towards the door.

He’d just showed me the thin, rubbery lines of pink and white etched across the taut flesh covering his ribs.

I just stared at him, the roach burning in my fingers. He’s my best friend and this is fucked up. I’m cool with tattoos and piercings, but this looked like he’s carved slits into his sides.

“Dan, we’re good?” he asked.

“Dude, you sure we shouldn’t tell Megan?” I said, tamping out the roach into an ashtray, trying not to sound worried. Megan usually had all the answers.

“You can’t tell anybody. It’s my secret. And I’ve kept yours for years,” he smirked. “You owe me.” He opened the screen door and disappeared.

Gills. He swears he’s growing gills.

He’s fucking with me, right?

I pick up the phone and dial half of Meg’s number. I’ve kept yours for years bounces around the room, and I hang up. Gills?

I roll another joint. This is like some fucked-up Twilight Zone episode, and the Zone’s always better with a buzz on.

Maybe I’ll call Megan in the morning.

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