Ethan held the small plastic snap lock bag at eye level giving it a few flicks with his middle finger. This made the white powder that had been purposely spread out settle to the bottom of the bag. He’d done this many times and had a well trained eye to see that by the height and girth, whether the contents were light, in which case he’d been ripped off, or the bag of coke was on point. This was part of the ritual of purchase, always done after you’d handed over $250 for the 8 ball which lasted a few hours, five at a stretch; more often than not leaving you disappointed you didn’t buy two. For reasons unknown you never did this inspection in front of the dealer, but rather, waited until you were either in your car afterward, or in the toilet where you’d go to rack up a line or two, usually two, to have a taste to get you started.