Crescent Moon

The sign on the outside wall of the building read “Crescent Moon” but he was never sure if that meant the restaurant on the ground floor, or the hotel above. Some days he’d take the stairs, twenty-seven steps to his floor, and other days, he rode the escalator a mile up, which took much longer on account of how high it was. Still, some days, who wants to walk when they can ride?

At the top of the escalator is an empty room; empty save for the woman, adorned with a necklace with a silver crescent moon suspended between her collar bones. He worshipped the woman, adored her, and she, albeit reluctantly, acknowledged his attentions but did little to encourage them. It was enough for both of them.

“Would you like another?” she asked one day in that lilting voice of hers. Of course he knew what she meant. She always offered the psychotropic as a small square of infused paper. He took one once, the one with the decal of a crescent moon, or perhaps is still on the drug even now. He is never quite sure, since that first hit of Crescent Moon.

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