His tea was steaming in front of him. A bright magenta; some sort of herbal blend. Patrick stared as the heat rose up in delicate white wisps, twisting into nothing. While he looked, he ground up some weed, leaning with his elbows on his knees. Besides him on the couch, Jaime was scrolling through Netflix. Every few seconds, the beginnings of a trailer started to play, and then Jaime moved on. "Just don't put on something sad," Patrick said, glancing toward the screen, then back to his friend. Their knees were close, just an inch or so apart.
He was tempted to bump their legs together. Instead, he focused on dumping the weed out and rolling it into the first joint. "I mean, unless you want to bum yourself out."







