My life’s work consists of selling medicines out of a cart. As odd as it may sound, the townspeople are grateful for my mixtures that have “magical properties.” For the longest time I had to go as a salesperson door-to-door, asking if anyone needed cures for their ailments. My first client was a man by the name of Thomas. He had a high fever and his family was desperate for some sort of remedy. I gave him a small vile and went on my way. The next day when I was in the market buying some food, Thomas came barreling through the crowd and rushed to shake my hand. His fever had disappeared. He even offered to buy me a meal, but I refused. All I asked of him was that he would spread word of the medicine’s success.
That was a month ago. Now my medicines are in constant demand for ailments such as fevers, stomach pains, dizziness, etc. The cart had become less door-to-door and now only goes to the main market. One day, a young man approached the cart. He seemed to eye the wares with curiosity and I let him do so. Slowly, the man moved closer and signaled for me to converse. I complied. He said that he had an addiction to heroin and wondered if I had any remedy. The story that followed his request described his year-long struggle losing his family and home to the addiction. He had no one left to turn to, and told me the amount he was willing to pay.
I was unsure whether or not my medicines would be able to combat this type of ailment. I asked him if he could meet me here tomorrow and I would give him something best suited for treating his disease. That night, after pouring over what seemed like a thousand books, I was able to find some sort of old apothecary medicine hidden on one of the last pages in my collection. I followed the instructions and crafted this elixir, praying that it would at least lessen the severity of this man’s disease.
The next morning as soon as I arrived he appeared at my cart. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he had not slept in months. I handed him the medicine and he gave me a very large sum in exchange. I did not question where he had gotten the money, though I did ponder about it. He nodded to me and then disappeared into the now bustling crowd. I never saw him again.
That night before I fell asleep I felt a strange sensation creep up into my body, curling around my lungs and heart up into my brain. I had no idea what was happening. When I awoke, I felt a hunger like never before. Upon looking in the mirror, my eyes were red and the veins seemed to raise from the eyes altogether. I was in shock. I had never gotten sick in my entire life. For a while I wondered what could have brought on this sickness, but then the intense craving captured my attention once more. I drank cups of water trying to satiate the feeling, yet it kept returning as soon as I set the glass down. Eating also did not lessen the pains. My head began to pound and I felt dizzy. After a long morning I went out to the market. Along the way, I passed by a store that usually I paid no attention to, but there was this lingering feeling of longing and it pulled me in. The shopkeeper asked what I was looking for and before I knew it the word “heroin” flew from my mouth. I found myself giving the shopkeeper money and receiving a small bag in exchange. Forgetting all about my work I pulled the cart back home. Somehow I effortlessly took in small bits of the drug until my hunger seemed to calm. In a out-of-mind state I realized that the medicine I had given to the man would not get rid of his addiction, but move it to myself and all of the knowledge about where to find the drugs came with it. Because I had only ever cured short term ailments, they had no effect on me. But now, I was stuck with this terror.
Once my daze had calmed down the hunger returned. I cried for the first time in years, unsure where my life was headed. All I knew was that I needed something to stop the pain.
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