“Eventually, you’re going to die. And that’s ok because at least you had the chance to live,” Matthew pulled another pill from the pocket of his faded black jeans, some teenage kids ADD meds, and began cutting it in half, “I mean fuck it, if you don’t find work, you don’t find work. And you’re just stranded in New York City. NewYorkmotherfuckinCity, even the rats can find enough food to survive here. And when they croak, they croak.” He began crushing half of the small blue pill with his lighter. Steven, confused and growing uncomfortable, spoke up.
“Do you have to do that here? I mean theres kids at the table over there, what if the waitress see’s you?” He could here all the cooks in the back of the diner laughing, the families around them conversing over their Sunday afternoon meals together. And here, infront of him behind a plate of scrambled eggs and white toast, Matthew had neatly arranged a thin blue line that doctors across the country swear will make children focus more in the classroom.
“Did you not here what I said?” FFFF-F-F-F, and up his nasal cavity it went, eyes shot slightly and momentarily red as his pupils began to dilate in the center of his pale blue eyes. He hung his head down over the table for a moment as Steven turned his head around, concerned someone had seen what just happened. Matthews head snapped back up right. “NEWYORKMOTHERFUCKINCITY, people have more important shit to worry about! I’m just another freak on the subway to half of these people when they’re hoppin the 7 on their morning commute! But don’t get off base here man, the point, the point, the point is that,” his fingers fluttered around his nose briefly and his eyes darted back and forth between the eggs, the toast, and the still steaming cup of coffee, “you can spend your time here worried about whether you’ll succeed or not, or you can just accept the fact that by having an apartment in this city in the first place, your already more successful than half the scum you grew up around.”
“I work at a book store but its barely enough for rent and my monthly payments.” Steven said.
“What the hell do you pay monthly that’s so expensive?”
“My loans, from school. It’s expensive.”
“Why work at a bookstore with a degree?” Matthew asked.
“Why shove speed up your nose if you’re not trying to pass a final exam?”
With the conversation going nowhere, Steven reached into his wallet to pay for the bill as Matthew quickly shoved the rest of the food in front of him into his mouth, spilling bits of yellow powdered eggs over the remnants of blue dust remaining on the table. Pale white noise from the air conditioner kicked in, drowning out the conversations around them as they sat gazing around at the other patrons, confirming that either none of them had seen what just happened or genuinely did not care.