It wasn't often any transportation ran when they clocked out, such is fate. They've made it a block before their phone rings, a familiar tone as a familiar name lights up the screen.
"Hello?" They hesitate as they answer. They close their eyes, and hold their breath as they wait for the person on the other end to speak. Somehow, someway, it wouldn't be who the name indicated.
"Heyyy Big S! Glad you picked up." Their breathing starts again, but they can't open their eyes. Their internal monologue insists it's not real, it can't be.
"Kash. I thought you weren't supposed to have phones in the recovery center." They respond, calmly and slow. Like they were talking to a child.
"They don't! I'm out, dude, like OUT out." He laughs over the phone, to which Sprocket sighs deeply.
"Congratulations, I didn't think they'd let you out so…soon." They mumble. They open their eyes, being forced to acknowledge that this is in fact real. The burning sensation of this is swallowed down to be replaced with cold indifference, however the maneuver upsets their stomach.
"I mean I wasn't supposed to be but they reached capacity so they let me go for 'good behavior', awesome right?" Kash seemingly pulls away for a moment to talk to someone in a muffled way, and Sprocket can't make out what he's saying. It doesn't matter much. "Anyway, you out tonight? We're celebrating."
"Yeah, I just got off work." They reply. Bile rises in their throat, it's that feeling trying to return. They mute themselves to throw up on the sidewalk, ejecting those emotions from their body entirely. They unmute. "Where are you?"
"Where are YOU? I'll come pick you up and bring you back here, you'll take too long on foot and we're waiting till you get here to get it started.” Kash pulls away again, but they can hear what he's saying this time. He's yelling. "I said no one gets anything till Sprocket's here, put that shit down!"
"About a block to the west of work. What kind of celebration is this, Kash?" They ask. Their voice is monotone, it's not a genuine question. Both of the people on this phone call know that.
"The only kind I know how to do, my friend, the only kind I know how to do." He laughs. "We have good shit here, I'll come getcha alright? See you soon good buddy!"
The line goes dead. Sprocket looks at the pavement for a while before taking out a pack of cigarettes from their jacket pocket. They place one under their nose and inhale, a smell they are well familiar with as Saccharine's voice echoes.
"Take care of yourself." They say out loud. They removed the cigarette from under their nose, then pull out a book of matches. The logo is faded, but they recognize the shape. They take one out to strike."I'll keep a room open."