Sitting in my VW Golf, overwhelmed by thoughts of happier times with my two young sons, I reached into my glove compartment.
Surreptitiously, I took out a small packet of brown powder, sprinkled a little on the foil it was wrapped in and lit the powder from below.
Inhaling deeply, I felt my anxiety give way to a surge of calm. As the heroin hijacked my brain, I slipped into delicious nothingness.
Then a sharp rap on the window shook me out of my reverie. ‘Excuse me, madam, can you please open the door and exit the vehicle.’ It was late at night
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