“My head throbs.” He grips my thigh, turning more to face me, and our bent knees knock together. His tongue wets his dried lips. “Everything’s kind of fuzzy. But not like the time I had the pot cookie. I hated that feeling. It was like having the stereo in my head turned up too loud.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “This feels like it’s cranked down. Everything’s soft.” He blinks slowly, his eyes bloodshot. “It’s okay,” I remind him. “Farrow…I don’t want to like it.” Fear cracks his voice.
THIS KILLED ME 😭
