“A sprinkle of pixie dust, a 5 letter word, and a bit of hope can change your life. At least, it did mine.”

Equinox looks at me, hand outstretched, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. If I could personify the purple devil face emoji into an actual expression, that’s exactly the look that Equinox was giving me now.

“Of course, I guess it’s more than just hope. There’s some grinding that goes into it, making the right connections, but you won’t have a hard time with that, will you Cath? You’ve lived in this podunk town since forever so you know everyone.”

I hate it when she calls me Cath. At first it was a cute nickname, now it just feels dismissive. Like is it really that hard to just say one more syllable? Especially for someone with as complicated of a name as Equinox.

Speaking of whom, she is still looking at me. The devil emoji hasn’t disappeared from her expression, and her outstretched hand is still hovering in the air between us. Anyone else would have retracted it by now, humbled by the awkwardness of extending an offering that hadn’t been accepted. However Equinox was a different breed. If this interaction impacted her confidence in any way, she wasn’t showing it.

She could sense my hesitation, however. With a big sigh she used her other hand, the one that wasn’t outstretched, to flip back one of her thick French braids behind her back.

“Listen, I know it’s a big step. But you need it, Cath. You need to switch up your life. Do you really want to keep bagging groceries at Public for the rest of your life? Working two jobs, changing your uniform in your car just to drive an hour to make minimum wage somewhere else after hours of already making minimum wage?”

Equinox had the slightest laugh in her voice as she said this, as if working hard at a minimum wage job was a sign of weakness rather than a sign of the strength that I had had to dig into the depths of myself to find as I worked day after day after day, only taking a day off every other Thursday.

At the same time though, she wasn’t wrong. I was getting tired of working on my feet all day and dealing with fussy middle aged women who didn’t like that I bagged their light bulbs in the same bag as their Kraft Mac and cheese.

I looked at the pill capsules in Equinox’s palm. They were a light, robins egg blue. I knew inside is a light pink powder. The light, pastel, almost child like colors are what gave the drug its name - Pixie Dust.

I’ve never tried it, but I know it’s taken a hold of the town I live in. It’s not a typical small town where the average person works on a farm and makes 30K a year. Most people here work from home in some kind of tech industry. Many of them chose a life in the idyllic mountain scenery over the hustle and bustle of city life, and when you work from home and can take your job anywhere, who can blame them?

What that meant, however, is that the town became full of bored, under stimulated, professional workers. And when people have a lot of money and nothing to do with it, drug culture thrives. Especially with the ability to work from home without a micromanaging boss looking over your shoulder.

Equinox picked up on the fact that my hesitation was wavering. She inched her hand forward closer to me, the four blue pills nestled in her palm like little bird eggs in a nest.

“And you know Chess will make sure to keep up with the demand. Just text him the code word and he’ll make it happen.”

Equinox reached over her shoulder, pulling back the braid she had just flipped behind her head a few moments ago. She started idly playing with it, and for the first time I noticed tiny little metal ringlets braided into the hair like a Viking. How on brand.

“In fact,” she continued, “I’d just text him right now. You’ll be able to get rid of these by the end of the day. You’re going to want more ASAP. Just don’t be dumb about it, dont ever text him with the context of what you’re selling, just use the code word whenever you need to re up and he’ll understand.”

Part of me is offended that Equinox felt the need to explain to me how stupid it is to text a drug dealer about the drugs he’s selling. But then again, I grew up in the bubble of this 600-person town and have never left, so I can’t blame her. Equinox has traveled the world, sleeping in her car, couch surfing with strangers she just met at a bar, selling whatever she could to put gas in her tank to make it to the next spot. To her, my life probably seems so sheltered.

I take a deep breath and look down at the pills again for what seems like the millionth time in the three minutes since Equinox extended her hand. This time, however, I reach out my own hand to meet hers. She smiles. I feel the smooth capsules, warm from her hand, slide into mine.

“In a few months, you’re gonna be out of that grocery store and singing praises of gratitude towards me.”

What I would give to have the confidence that she does.

“Well, me and Chess. Really he’s the one you’ll be picking up from here on out. Speaking of which, go ahead and message him. You’re gonna need more of those.”

I silently nod, slipping the pills into the exterior pocket of my purse and pulling out my phone. I open the contact that Equinox sent me at the beginning of the conversation. I click “New Message” and type out 5 letters before pressing send.

“Ready”.