“It feels like old times with you here,” he said, pushing a button and maneuvering his mattress to a extra upright position.
She smiled. “Yeah. All we want is-”
He reached into the bedside drawer and held out a fat joint. He gave her that identical tilted, crooked-toothed grin she remembered so well. “Cancer makes pot handy to come by.” He added the joint to his lips and lit it.
Cindy laughed. “So, you've been getting all our ancient pals high, huh?”
He took a toke and exceeded it to her. When he eventually exhaled, he said, “There are no historic friends round here. Not for me, anyway.”
Cindy took a hit. The smoke scalded her throat and made her cough. She exceeded the joint back to him. “I haven't smoked pot in years.”
“That's true news. So, how's the comedy biz?”
She took a small
