The long-haired junkie motioned to have the window rolled down. He grinded what was left of his teeth and his beady eyes shifted all over the van. It was eight in the morning and The Van Man had been there since the night before. His van had malfunctioned and Van Man needed a specific part to fix it, so he waited for his friend to give him a ride to the auto parts store. The Junkie smirked and stared at him. Van Man had not even had his coffee yet. So fuck the guy. The Junkie had zero tact and stepped closer to the window. He motioned for the window to be rolled down again. Van Man lowered the passenger window two inches.
"You used ta stay around the corner?", asked The Junkie.
"Huh?", replied Van Man.
"I think I used ta see you on Whitnail."
"Nah, not me."
"No.", Van Man said sternly.
"Just waitin' here?", The Junkie asked. Van Man stared at the twenty-something Junkie and realized that his rude nature was exactly why he was the addict creature he was.
"Yeah.", replied Van Man.
"Waitin' for someone at The Bullet?", The Junkie asked and Van Man looked across the street at the gay bar.
"No.", said Van Man.
"You holdin'? Got some heroin--trade ya."
"Cool. You just waitin'?"
"Why ya' waitin'?", The Junkie asked. Van Man was in awe of The Junkie's insanity.
"Someone's coming to help me out. My car."
"Oh, oh, cool.", said The Junkie as he backed into the middle of the sidewalk. "What year is this?", he asked.
"Cool. This is perfect, man. Not too old lookin', but not too new. And it's big in the back. You could live in it."
The Van Man stared at The Junkie. "Yeah, man."
The Junkie flashed some type of hand sign and continued down the sidewalk, on his search for someone to trade with. Van Man chalked it up to the nature of The Valley on a Wednesday morning. As he waited for his friend, The Van Man thought about the Seven-Eleven down the street and their coffee.