Jesse ripped through her bag, yelling out in frustration every few seconds. Where the fuck could it be? Where the fucking fuck was it?! After she realized her hands were shaking and her hair was in her mouth, as well as every direction possible, she threw her duffle across the room and barged out of the tiny room. Her flatmate wasn't home, so she swiped a few quid and left the house, slamming the door and trudging down the narrow street.
She couldn't believe it. Her weed was gone. All of it. At least 200 quid worth she'd nicked off of her last flatmate [granted he was a right prick] was virtually nonexistent. It must have gotten stolen off the train. It was unlikely Mir looked through her bag while she wasn't there. She shook her head angrily. What did it matter anyway? She didn't pay for it.
She found a convenient store and went in. Her hands, still shakily, handed the money over to the clerk as she asked for a pack of Marlboro Reds. "Are you sure, love?" asked the older lady, holding the box hesitantly. "Piss off," Jesse said, grabbing the carton and walking out the door.