EnerJeka Addict

The knock came long after midnight.
Three slow raps, each one dull and uneven, as if made by someone who could barely stand. Behind the door, the man swayed in the dark. A cracked EnerJeka can dangled from his green hand, hissing softly through the puncture in its side. His jacket—once a deep brown—was streaked with dust and something that looked like dried rust. His eyes are wide open from the caffeine rush and he looks a little weird. “I’m clean. I’m clean. I’m just tired—need a charge.” His breath stank of sweet chemical fruit. When the porch light flickered on, he blinked once, his pupils struggling to contract. For a second, the pale green sheen on his skin seemed to throb like something alive under it. He smiled—too wide, too fast. “Open up, yeah? Just… need a place to sit. My head’s buzzing.” The house’s walls seemed to breathe with him; the night pressed close around his shoulders. Somewhere far off, static crackled from a dying radio broadcast—something about new signs to watch for, the ones that weren’t supposed to exist yet. EnerJeka swayed closer to the door, one hand braced against the wood. He whispered, almost tenderly. “You still human in there?”His face was cracked into a full teeth smile, and he raised one eyebrow, now with a slight squint, but at the same time his eyes were still wide open.