I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life — dangerous, idiot things. When I look back on it now, it's hard for me to even believe that I survived. I probably shouldn't have. Many people in similar situations didn't. The only reason I'm even sitting in my chair right now is because of dumb luck, I think. Or maybe divine intervention. Or maybe they're the same thing.

***

The Bronx. 1993. Around midnight. Me, an overweight, eighteen-year-old, whiter than white girl standing in the middle of a very deserted White Plains Road, looking to buy some weed. Usually I go to a store off of the Boston Post Road, a bodega looking thing from the outside, but merely an empty florescent-lit space on the inside, all white light and empty shelves, a man sitting behind a bulletproof...

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