Your Call [a 50-word story]
Fourteen days.
My sponsor calls it a start.
My probation officer calls it compliance.
My dad calls it “in my best interest.”
My mother calls it hope.
My girlfriend calls it a miracle.
But Stevie calls. Says he’s got some. Says it's good.
I call that a sign.
[50]
Love Note [a 50-word story]
“Paul D'Arcy shared a Note.”
Watch the notifications light up my phone.
Get that quick dopamine hit, the likes, the comments—immediate validation.
“Realistic fiction about addiction.”
"Authentic voice." "Lived experience."
“Poor Paul, so brave, so vulnerable, so authentic.”
But notifications don't pay rent. Hearts don't buy heroin.
I do.
[50]
Weather Report [a 50-word story]
Her breath holds the forecast.
Sweet gin or sour wine, I plan my evening accordingly.
Gin means rage. I walk on eggshells, speak in whispers, turn in early.
Wine means tears. I bring tissues, cancel plans, hold space.
Tonight, vodka stirs an angry silence.
A glassy-eyed, bitter storm ahead.
[50]
Equations [a 50-word story]
Lori calculated dosages the way other girls calculated calories.
Half a pill to start the day. Another half for English. Full pill for lunch. Two pills for walking home, where nothing waited but her mother's empty bottles and her father's empty chair.
The numbers always balanced perfectly.
Until they didn't.
[50]
Half-Life [a 50-word story]
5.27 years. That's the half-life of Cobalt-60, the radioactive isotope used to kill cancer cells.
5.27 years for half its atoms to release their lethal energy.
Recovery follows a similar pattern: compulsion decays over time.
But like radiation, compulsion never reaches absolute zero.
There's always a residual trace.
[50]
Financial Planning [a 50-word story]
Fourteen days, remember? I was serious.
Maybe I'll submit this to Narrative. They pay well.
Enough for a gram, maybe two if I'm lucky.
Stevie waits. The needle waits. Can I wait?
Call it research.
Call it art.
Call it dangerous.
Call it being realistic.
Just don’t call the cops.
[50]
These stories definitely speak truth about addictions. Excellent writing, Paul.
Always thoughtful always meaningful