It wasn’t until an hour had passed since I walked into the house that I remembered the hash in my pocket. This would not be a problem if I was wearing the jeans with the said pocket. But I wasn’t. Running out of the room in a mild state of panic probably wasn’t the best idea, but vivid mental images of the shocked expressions of my poor traumatized parents as the ‘drugs’ fell out of my pocket messed with the otherwise-calm-zen-like-state of being I liked to stay in. Of course, I ran head first into my father who stared at me quizzically as I let my freshly created bangs fall over my blank, kohl-trapped eyes, hiding me behind a fragile curtain of nicotine reeking hair. I grinned at him as sanely as I could manage and darted into the small room.
Too many people. Fuck. Couldn’t risk it now. Not when I’d come this far. Hiding behind the tall translucent brown-gold curtains, I studied my family. Great. An intriguing movie. This was perfect. I could transfer the hash to a safer place when my curious parents were fast asleep. It was too dangerous at the moment. I couldn’t blow my cover now. Not when there was only so much longer to freedom. I would have to bide my time. Like a fox, waiting for the hounds to leave before I jumped out of the hollow log and ran home. Like a squirrel, waiting for a snake to slither away from the acorns he’s hidden for winter. There would have to be patience. I would have to wait.
But, suddenly, dawn was breaking. My brother, who I hadn’t been able to find all night, was still missing. Along with my dog. Logic told me they would be inside the house, except logic was getting fucked over with every room I peeked into. And now, as the room was slowly filling up with early morning light, I remembered the pocket. Somewhere in the middle of ice candies, colors and drugged out conversations, I had forgotten all about the hash. Fuck.
This time I ran through the connecting room. I had to get there and get the stuff out before the family woke up. This was necessary. This was ultimate. I locked myself in and threw open the cupboard, only to realize that everything smelled of stale smoke. Oh. Damn.
I pulled out the blue jeans and retrieved the hash. The next few steps were complicated and messed up as I struggled with the suitcase that had decided to get stuck between the bed and the wall. The fear was back. I couldn’t be found awake at this time. There would be too many questions. I spared a glance at the mirror. No, this had to be done now!
A few painful moments later, the hash had been stored safely, the cigarettes were in place. I could breathe again. I turned to leave the room and my eyes fell on my nicotine flavored clothes. Sigh. I sniffed at the clothes cautiously. The shirt wasn’t that bad. I could leave it on the bathroom floor and wash it later. The jeans, on the other hand, had to go. For a moment, I considered flinging them out the window. Or stuffing them in the bottom of some trunk. But then, I calmed down. So the jeans ended up rolled up and stashed away at the corner of the cupboard. Temporary, but it would have to do. Rechecking everything, I turned off the light and walked into my room, hoping the younger half of my family had magically reappeared. They hadn’t. Of course.
A new journey? Ah, well...
A new journey? Well, I am calm now. I know they’ll be back. I probably missed a room or something. And I really really need to sleep. I just wish I’d get that and pass out already. Anyhow, it’s been an interesting six hours. A little more taxing than usual, but in a good way. Now, before the world awakens, I need to find a place to hide. Good morning and good night.