It’s late in the day and while I should be elsewhere he’s swimming around the hook of my last line cast and I’m here anxiously anticipating his next move. It’s my best line and lure but just when I thought he might take the bait and my tempting invitation all I heard was long silence followed by a click. And I sat there, phone in hand weeping for another addict off the hook still seeking dope and not enough interest in the alternative I offered that may not satisfy his craving but would save his soul.
In case you ever wanted to know, some days that’s exactly what my seven years of recovery feels like.