Portrait of a Drug Dealer

Fiction & Literature, Psychological, Literary
Cover of the book Portrait of a Drug Dealer by Tom Cellar, iUniverse
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Author: Tom Cellar ISBN: 9781491769034
Publisher: iUniverse Publication: June 10, 2015
Imprint: iUniverse Language: English
Author: Tom Cellar
ISBN: 9781491769034
Publisher: iUniverse
Publication: June 10, 2015
Imprint: iUniverse
Language: English

The off ramp came as a surprise. Mechanically, I turned the steering wheel. Windshield wipers were keeping time with the pulsing bass pumping out the amp in the trunk, rain sliced through the night sky pelting a dreary line of soulless metallic shells. My knuckles were white, my palms sweaty. As I tried to light a cigarette, the numbness permeating my whole body intensified in my thumb, thwarting my attempts to spark the lighter. I had lost too much blood. Tears came rushing to my eyes, but I stifled them with a long snort. This was no time for weakness. It did not matter that I was alone in the car.

Weakness is a choice. Certainly there are those who are predisposed to weakness, to cowardice, but it is inevitably a choice for which there is no excuse. One may point to past traumatic experiences, one may use their upbringing to rationalize character defects, but it always comes down to a choice. People choose to be weak, and that for me was not a choice. Well, it was a choice, but one that would ultimately lead to either prison or the grave.

-excerpt from Portrait of a Drug Dealer

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The off ramp came as a surprise. Mechanically, I turned the steering wheel. Windshield wipers were keeping time with the pulsing bass pumping out the amp in the trunk, rain sliced through the night sky pelting a dreary line of soulless metallic shells. My knuckles were white, my palms sweaty. As I tried to light a cigarette, the numbness permeating my whole body intensified in my thumb, thwarting my attempts to spark the lighter. I had lost too much blood. Tears came rushing to my eyes, but I stifled them with a long snort. This was no time for weakness. It did not matter that I was alone in the car.

Weakness is a choice. Certainly there are those who are predisposed to weakness, to cowardice, but it is inevitably a choice for which there is no excuse. One may point to past traumatic experiences, one may use their upbringing to rationalize character defects, but it always comes down to a choice. People choose to be weak, and that for me was not a choice. Well, it was a choice, but one that would ultimately lead to either prison or the grave.

-excerpt from Portrait of a Drug Dealer

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