They All Fall Down
A faint, pink flush crept up his neck.
"Can I... get a selfie with them?" he finally managed, his voice dry and raspy, like stones grinding together.
"You mean these?" I laughed, a harsh, brittle sound in the cluttered silence. I hoisted them a little higher, the fabric of my dress straining. I knew it. I was totally, utterly unfair, wielding a weapon I despised. But I was riding a shitload of coke, fuelled by pure desperation, and I had absolutely nothing else to offer. My dignity was already lying in pieces next to a hipster's bed, and my financial autonomy was locked inside the very device he was now holding. This was the only currency I had left.