5:10pm: withdrew $300 from savings and walked to Duane reade. They’re playing the song that’s like ‘there’s a hole in my heart that can only be filled by you’ that makes me feel like a sad empty dollar store. You use a phone to do moneygram things. I spelled and said Jordan’s name twice and each time the woman repeated ‘gordan’ back to me. She said I need his middle initial. I said ‘does it really matter?’ She started to sound irritated and said ‘yes, the name must match the person’s official ID who you’re sending it to.’ Wanted to say ‘it’s Luis or Francisco or something, sounds Spanish.’ I said ‘I think I know it, can I think for a minute?’ She said ‘mmhmm’ and after a few seconds put me on hold. I hung up the phone. Looked to see if my phone picked up wifi. No dice. Asked cashier if I could use cash. Couldn’t picture how the cash in my hand would get to Ohio. Another customer approached. Cashier said ‘I think so, yeah’ and paged the manager. I looked at the customer he had started to ring up, said ‘I gotta find out a middle name, I’ll be back in like ten minutes.’ Cashier said ‘cool,’ picked up the store phone, said ‘cancel.’ Currently walking up stairs to apartment. Still smells like weed. Feel like I’m going to pass out.

5:18pm: sitting on toilet. Out of breath. There’s a new email from Jordan in our email chain. Since I blacked out the other night I’ve been periodically feeling faint and like I need to lay down but then that kind of makes it worse. Used toilet paper to wipe Alvie’s vomit from floor, then dropped the clump of it in toilet.

5:35PM: sitting on floor. listening to ‘what that was’ by majical clouds on repeat. waiting to hear what jordan’s (or ‘gordan’s,’ as he is known in certain moneygram circles) middle name is.

6:01pm: descending apartment building stairs. Jordan is at the grocery store where money should be sent. Worried this isn’t going to work. It’s going to work. Got that middle name in tow: ‘Julio.’ Me and Julio down by the Duane reade moneygram station. Wish Jordan was here. Dreading apartment re-entry. Feels like the bleakest place…solitary confinement headquarters…in a bad way.

6:05pm: put phone in pocket and waited to pass a man standing by a van to write this. Forget what I wanted to write. Remembered as I was typing ‘what I:’ I don’t feel effects from adderall anymore.

6:25pm: when I said Jordan’s middle initial was ‘j,’ the moneygram man said “j’ as in ‘Jordan?”