Fiction | September 23, 2014

Larson was supposed to have two of the blessed morphine every four hours, but his son had put him on a painkiller diet. Instead of the dose he was supposed to have, during the hours that Steven was in charge of things, his meds had been cut in half, supplemented with the Advil. Steven sold the other half of the morphine pills down at Beebo’s bar for five dollars apiece. That money added up, and Larson could hardly blame him. Larson figured he was lucky. The boy could have cut him off completely.

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