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In his mind, Hollis struggled to answer the perky
question on the yellowed poster. He didn't know where
he pictured himself in five years. He could be in a
third-world country, humbly lending a loving hand to a
deprived society. He could be in a cement, inner-city
studio apartment, piled to the dusty windowsills with
his own schmaltzy artwork, and a chain-smoking
landlady who walked around in sweat pants and Reeboks.
He could be wearing heavy cologne and clever novelty
cufflinks, treading a sea of blue carpet each day
while his bank account swelled. The truth was, Hollis
could be anywhere but where he stood. Everyone there
knew all three of his names and how he looked when he
was THIS high. No one there forgot his painful and
humiliating past; they all knew just how his heart
would break, and did it every so often just to watch
him fumble about in despair.

-Cate Ufford

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