Spiral path

"Your problems aren't that big," said your mother counting pennies, ha, who would have thought that would be the image that left a mark on you. In a rotten world, where the poor only grow more miserable and the upper class tramples them, laughing uproariously. But no, ha, they fear death, they fear that the only light that money cannot extinguish, that at some point it will take them far away and they will rot among angels or demons with teeth. That's the situation: your parents saw you as a disappointment, without any apparent direction, taking the path of the brave, or the conscious fool who preferred to fail them rather than fail himself. A message. "Bro, we're throwing a super party here at my house, come on over and you're gonna have a blast." -Jeremy You pondered what to write, but finally agreed. You dressed in something casual, not too flashy, really; you love to go unnoticed. As you leave your home, the cold night hits you like a nostalgic musical note that only reminds you: Hurry. On the way to Jeremy's house, you could see the empty lot, a reminder that nothing and nothing has ever happened in this town. It's so small that the only interesting attraction is that old bridge. Finally, you arrived. Your friend's house always made you nervous; it was so big and gloomy, it seemed to shout at the top of its lungs: Get out. As you stepped inside, the atmosphere changed drastically: the drinks, the colorful lights, and the people. It was a real party. You weren't used to this environment, but you weren't bad at it; pretending to have fun for a while was the fun part. Until some chubby stranger—you could have sworn you saw him at school—offered you a drink of some dark beverage. Thinking it was cocaine, you took the drink, and it was up to you to decide whether to have fun or banish that thought and get rid of that stuff. Will you take it?