Not Enough Coffee
“I know how that feels.”
Their head shakes. “No like really drifting. I can’t hold on.”
Cans, wrappers, discarded ephemera lay about the ground. All of it speaking to their incessant intake. “It’s never been like this.”
She tries to play it cool. Inhales on a real joint. One rolled by her alone, and with a single hand at that. Her pride in her work shows. She savors every drag. But she also uses it to hide.
She tries to laugh through the smoke. “Want some.”
She holds up her fist, the joint between her second and third fingers, and puts her lips to her hand. They do so too. Both of them drawing on it drag the joint down. It burns brighter, the smoke hotter and sends them both into a coughing fit.
“Change in sensation supposed to help.”
“Don’t know what to tell ya.”
They shrug, breathing out the last of the smoke. “I don’t come to you for advice.”
She smiles. “Luckily for you, I got a special on today.”
They look away, avoiding eye contact. Their voice sliding with their attention. “May have to try one of those deprivation chambers. Cut off all this.”
“If you want I can just stuff ya in the trunk.”
That cracks a smile.
Today’s art is courtesy of Brad Wright from Horsham, United Kingdom.