Across the sidewalk, a woman named Kelly sat on a folding chair and watched Herens move down the block. She had heard about the cluster of overdoses, but it hadn’t deterred her from buying crack. She said she wasn’t interested in carrying Narcan: “I feel like it wouldn’t matter if I died,” she said. Her eyes welled with tears.
Herens walked over, flier in hand. It couldn’t hurt to learn a bit about it, she said. Kelly nodded, managed a smile, and took the flier.
By Aubrey Whelan
The Collected Works of Jim Garrow 