Disturbia (The 13th) by Tabatha Manuel Page A

the heat, especially this type of heat, but he figured there was nothing he could do about it and was irritated he had to leave out today and go to work. He wished he could lie in the air conditioning all day. Not like his apartment had it. It was stuffy as hell in there and would surely be unbearable by mid afternoon. 
     
    Sal stretched his arms and let out a loud yarn mixed with an “Oh shit,” and then got up and headed to the kitchen which was only three steps away. Instead of the tall fridge he was accustomed to, he reached down low for the miniature icebox that most kids had stored away in their college dorms. His eyes glowed as he placed his hand around the brown glass bottle.  Last one, gotta make a run to the store on my way home today. Don’t forget.
     
    The cold beverage refreshed both his dry mouth and his sober brain. Sobriety was the enemy. It reminded him too much of what he had lost. He stepped over the clothes he had on the night before, almost tripping over his torn leather belt, and moved pass the piss filled toilet, making his way to the shower, only to be reminded that the shut off notice for his hot water went into effect today.  After the brutal shower that left him feeling even dirtier than he had before he stepped in, he lay back down on the dingy sheets on his cot and closed his eyes - just for a second before he started another day in paradise. 
     
     
    ***
     
    Miguel squinted his eyes as the sun beamed while he stepped outside to grab the morning paper. He wasn't expecting any deliveries today. He glanced at his watch that read 7:15 am and he knew it was too early for the mail to come anyways.  That made the brown box sitting at the front door of the convenience store even more baffling. Miguel knew for a fact that it wasn't there the night before he climbed the fire escape to his apartment upstairs. Still yet, he bent down to pick it up. While still lowered to the ground, he heard a lady scream and he abruptly glanced up to see a man forcing a woman in the car.  For a second he thought maybe he could save the dark woman with sandy brown hair from the cocky dude with the white undershirt on, but then the thought quickly vanished from his mind as he remembered the neighborhood he was in.  This area was ruthless and so were the people. He would probably end up in the truck of that man's car if he interfered. And even more disturbing to him was the fact that the police would show up hours after the incident, if they even bothered to answer the phone at all. 
     
    Just from the short time of being outside, he already had droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. His back started to feel wet and his red t-shirt began sticking to his olive skin. Wanting to escape from the heat, he then carried the light box inside to prepare himself for what was almost opening time. 
     
    Miguel plopped the square box on the counter behind the register.  He noticed the box had no return sender. It was only addressed to Lucky's Beer & Wine.  This had never happened since he had been owner since taking over the store when his father died, but he figured anyone who wanted to send him free merchandise was more than welcome.  It looked like candy. The wrapper was red and had black stripes painted on it.  In the middle was just the number six.  The box was full of the stuff and all together there had to be about 3,000 little packages of it.  Miguel turned it over to read more about what it was, but the information was limited. The only thing it read was:
     
    Synthetic Kush.  Not For Human Consumption.
     
    His mind quickly referenced to the Internet where he had saw a similar product called Spice that had been used by teenagers and weed smokers to get high.  He remembered seeing some reports that the drug shouldn't be mixed with liquor or any other drugs or the user could suffer hallucinations. But since he hadn't heard of it being illegal or having any real side effects on anyone, he decided to make