We pull a drag. Puff. Puff. We pass.
Our greedy little eyes are fixed on the little red bulb at the end of the joint, glowing, fading, glowing again; the joints grows shorter with each drag, going around in circles.
Just one more drag. I need it. I want it. Will it reach me?
Smoke fills my lungs, eyes bleed, the chemicals hit my body, entering my blood stream, delivering it to…