As soon as I stepped foot inside the store, time slowed down and my body felt heavy, causing me to stop in my tracks. “High,” I said almost involuntarily, half saying hi to the store and half acknowledging my condition. I turned my head and saw the cashier standing there. He was literally standing still, like a statue. “High,” I said again, in his direction. He wasn’t funny looking or anything but for some reason I found him hilarious. I pursed my lips trying not to laugh but I still teared up, and my whole face looked like that of a kid trying not to laugh at their teacher. I wasn’t laughing at him, it was just a stoner laugh that happened to have been caused by him. I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him, which made me paranoid. I hid myself between the shelves, I wasn’t fit for society. I grabbed a bag of chips and some random cookies, nothing special, they probably sold them at my friend’s store too. I got in line to pay, knowing full well that I wasn’t going to be able to face the cashier. If he spoke, I was going to laugh, there was no way around it.

 

It was my turn to pay. “Is that gonna be all?” he asked. 

 

I didn’t laugh. I sighed. “Yup, that’s all. Sorry I’m acting weird man, I’m high as fuck,” I confessed. 

 

The young man slowly leaned towards me, looked sideways and whispered “you’re not the only one.” He smiled and winked, I laughed and clapped. The camaraderie was so intense I could have cried. 

 

“Oh man, this was my favorite part of the day,” I said. I handed him my credit card. He did his little cashier thing. 

 

“Bro I’m sorry, you’re two bucks short to pay with card,” he said, pointing to a handwritten in blue ink sign that read “Card Pay min. $5.”

 

“Well, that looks official,” I said. I glanced around, looking for something absurd to buy. On top of the counter, they had condoms and lottery tickets on display. “Equally unlikely,” I thought out loud. “I’ll take this lottery ticket,” I said while I picked it up. “Do I have to choose any numbers or something? I don’t know how this works,” I said. 

 

“Nah, you just scratch here and see if your numbers came up. This one is valid for tomorrow’s draw, see?” he explained. 

 

“Oh, alright, cool. Thanks man.” I paid. We fist bumped. I left. Cool dude.

​

I had barely left the store when I was struck with the utmost conviction that I was holding the winning ticket. I can’t explain it, but at that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that I had won the lottery. I’m usually extremely skeptical about things that don’t have a scientific explanation, but never in my life had I had a feeling such as this about anything.

 

Carrying what undoubtedly was a winning lottery ticket in my pocket, I skipped towards another friend’s house where I was informed a pre-game was going on.

 

At my friend's house, my premonition was initially met with laughter, mockery and insult, but the conversation shifted quickly into a calculation of how much I should give each of them if it turned out to be true. Even though I knew we were just joking, there was something slightly disturbing about the way their eyes lightened up when, after the fourth whisky, I promised cars for everyone.

​

Five hours and five Old-fashioneds later, I found myself alone at the bar. I still had some battery left in me, and even though I’m not one to enjoy being alone in such environments, extending the night increases the chances of something interesting happening.

​

I stood in line for the only restroom in the bar. Soon after, a girl got in line right behind me. She had her whole body covered in tattoos which gave her an extra appeal in my view. I put my hand in my pocket to feel the lottery ticket between my fingers. It was my turn to enter the restroom. I don’t know if the confidence came from the ticket or the Old Fashioneds, but without much thinking I gestured to her “wanna come in?” with a tilt of the head. To my surprise, she accepted my invitation. We entered together and I let her go first.

 

She sat in the toilet with her legs crossed, pulled up her skirt, and pulled down her panties. “Look away!” she said.

 

“No way, I wanna see,” I answered while I watched her from the corner of the room. It looked like she was enjoying my watching her. I found the whole scene to be so hot, and at the same time I thought how weird it was that I never liked being in the restroom when my ex-girlfriend was peeing. But this was different. This time, I was in a movie. And I was both the director and the protagonist. She finished, got dressed, got up, and flushed. My turn. I stood in front of the toilet, unzipped, and again the nasty director took hold, “do you wanna see what it feels like to pee like a man?” I asked her.

 

She laughed, covering her eyes with one hand. I stood still. She opened a window between her fingers and looked at me with one eye. Without saying a word, she stood behind me, wrapped her arms around me and held my dick gently with both hands. I peed. She kissed me on the cheek from behind and left. Should I have gotten her name or something? Should I go look for her in the bar? Should I have tried to fuck her? No. The moment was perfect and perfect it shall remain. 

​

I went home. What a day. What a night.

​