Apr 28, 2019
“if i tell you something, can you please promise to not FREAK out?”
@amycuses
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“if i tell you something, can you please promise to not FREAK out?”
@amycuses
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It had been a while since Marlene McKinnon was actually, blissfully, properly high. She wasn’t quite there yet today, but she was close. Closer than she’d been in a long time, if she was perfectly honest. Substance use—alcohol or drugs—was often something thought of as relegated to night-time-use, but it was an afternoon—slowly preparing to creep into evening—that found one Marlene McKinnon lying on her back on a hill, eyes closed and smile stretching slowly across her face as the sun swept across it and the weed hit her bloodstream.
Propping herself up to take another drag of her blunt, Marlene became dimly aware of another presence. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, a delighted grin spread across her face. “Wotcher,” she drawled, beaming up at Amycus, before giggling a little at the sound of her voice extending the word. “I,” she announced, brandishing her blunt dramatically as she patted the grass beside her, “am Thinking.” The word was intended with a capital letter, which she assumed he’d be able to hear, despite any reasonable assumption to the contrary.
@carrow-amycus