Drug Addict

The light shone bright, streaming down, lines on a piano, black, white, shadow, light. Motes of air danced in the dust, in symphony with one another. He sat slumped on the sofa. His chest was heaving, that was the only sign he was alive. He was prone, smelled of decay. His eyes were closed, even when they were open, the pupils were unmoving. Chest went up and down slowly, slightly. You could barely tell.