I had had a terrible day. Chased from one place to the next, attacked by vicious animals and roaming stormtroopers, I had to fight my way through an overgrown forest with my two companions. It took us over twenty-four hours to finally get out of this mess.
We met up with a friend outside, and then we went our seperate ways. But alltough the worst seemed to be over, a nervous tension lingered in the air, crisping the muscles and kicking the brain into overdrive. I reached into my pocket and got out a skin, wanting to roll myself a cig, when it happened. The guy had been following me from before, some beat-cop with nothing better to do. He took my skin out of my hands, with a kind of “what-have-we-here” look in his eyes. I just knew he tought he could make an easy bust, probably find some weed on me, maybe more if he was lucky. But he wasn't.
I told him it wasn't for a joint, that I rolled my own cigarettes, and would he please hand it back. My jaw muscles clenched and my whole body was one big tight-wound spring, ready to let loose at the slightest touch. The guy just looked at me, a bemused smile on his lips. Before I knew it, my hand was around his arm, and I forced him against a nearby wall. I was barely touching him, but I had to use all my strength to keep myself from trying to tear him apart. “Do you really wanna do this?”, I whispered in his ear.
It seems that at that point, he realised that it would be a bad idea to mess with me in my current state. He looked like a child caught being naughty by its parents as he disentangled himself from me. I walked back out into the street and rolled my smoke. I lit up while looking at the grey early-morning sky. This wasn't gonna be one of my better days.
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