Mercy! She felt better after a toke. Was it naive to be redeemed by a puff a smoke? What's the difference between getting stoned and a coffee buzz; a tingly indica and a couple of beers; an uplifting sativa and a serotonin tweak?
When he drove the beltway between Baltimore and the District of Columbia he invoked an inner mantra: Do not engage the serpent.
Her prose was a retelling of countless yesterdays. But she eventually grew tired of that approach. Nowadays she conjured voices for an infinite self. It didn’t matter if she told the truth anymore.
When he smoked weed he couldn’t read books. He could read, but he kept reading the same sentence over and over, which was—inefficient. So when he read, he’d hit a slow brewed dark roast instead.
She thought failure was a hoax so she removed the word from her lexicon in 1999.
He drove the distance between Maryland and Virginia countless times and he always succumbed to road rage. He couldn't shake it. He was seduced by anger and increasingly concerned. Driving was a miserable test of ego.
She appreciated an amusing page turner but she slowed down every now and again to ponder a bit of poesy.
He never liked the idea of declaring his lack of ambition. "So what do you do?" said the barfly at the 2-for-1 happy hour in Midtown. His face wilted in reply. But if he heard, "What do you obsess about?" He was fully attentive.
She used to drink red wine.
He enjoyed watching the Pittsburgh Steelers but he muted the announcers and the commercials. He didn’t talk to his family much but when he watched the games he thought about them.
She isolated herself from society yet delighted in the quotidian comforts of a liaison.
Temper is revealing, and the last time he drove to DC—he was cool as a cucumber. He practiced self reflection on a QWERTY keyboard and a yoga mat.
They are ready to write the next chapter.
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