Oscar strides over with determined steps. He stops beside Charlie’s black scuffed and worn down Bolvaint shoes, and Oscar lightly kicks the sole. “Get up, Charlie.” Charlie pats the ground. “Lie down, Oscar. Watch the clouds move.” Oscar’s brows furrow and he squats down beside his client. I keep the camera rolling. “What’d you take?” he whispers. “Just a couple booms.” “When?” “Hotel.” “You have a bad trip, you tell me right away.” “Always.”
