You enter the shop. Bells sing.

"Every time a bell rings,

an angel gets it's wings!"

Stupid memory.

It's a Wonderful Life? Yeah right.

That movie's for people who believe in things.

Suckers. Not me.

I'm too smart to believe in anything.

Only.

"What can I do for you, girl?"

A man, in his 50s.

He's tall and broad and greasy.

Not charming.

"I heard you could help me."

"What'cha need?"

"Absinthe, they called it?"

"Who called it?"

"Do you have some?"

The man cleans a glass with a dingy cloth.

"Go home girl. You've better places to be."

He doesn't see.

"I need it."

"What for?"

"I need to...escape."

He sets the glass down on the counter. Throws down the towel.

"Listen, kitten, this ain't some booze for kicks. This is some psychedelic shit."

"So you do have it."

"Listen."

He bends down under the counter and pulls up a box. Wooden. Burnt.

He opens the top.

"Listen."

You step closer to the edge, eyes narrowed, wondering.

What will you see?

"It's so GREEN."

Like leaves. Like sin.

The man holds up his hands, head shaking.

"This is not a journey for the faint of heart."

"Journey? I thought this potion put people out of their misery."

He nods. "That can happen. That's up to what you do with what you see."

"Will I wake?"

"Depends. On what the muses do to you."

"Is it safe?"

"No. But it goes down smooth."

"...."

"All your fears could disappear. Is that kind of risk worth it to you?"

"Maybe just a taste."

"A taste is all it takes... to take you from melancholy meandering to gorgeous madness. From grey nothing... to kaleidoscopic doom."

"Gimme some. How much you want?"

"The first glass is free--but you should have heeded my warning."

You snatch, hold tightly to that small bottle of green.

"If you become a slave to your thirst... don't come cryin' to me."