Perhaps I would have been inclined to be more talkative the previous evening had I not been exercising a lot of caution, not wishing to intrude on what the other three were experiencing. That thought, especially, with the Sleeptalker in mind, since his way is so solitary and withdrawn, the impromptu Bible Class notwithstanding. And it is the Sleeptalker who seems to suffer the most intense next-day hangover, who certainly appeared to be enduring some kind of psychic pain. I've long noted how all the lads repent, as the Sleeptalker would put it, the day after sessions with ice or crack. I think a large part of that is financial, though.
Ice is a very cheap drug, probably the cheapest available.
But for all of us, that represents a substantial outlay and for them, one round is not enough if they have sufficient money in pocket for two or three. The aftermath then inevitably includes regret at having spent so much for what afterwards seems a very short time. I've been through that routine so much for reasons other than drug expenditures that it's not a factor for me. But I was surprised not to feel a greater droop in spirits, especially after that memorable hour alone with the Sleeptalker. I had just finished writing the previous tale when the Cherub arrived at the computer lab on Tuesday.