Morning Fog

Dee drew hard on the joint, held the smoke low in her rib cage and coughed  as she exhaled. She allowed herself two lungfuls of marijuana each morning. She watched the laundry she’d forgotten to take down yesterday blow in the early breeze. She stubbed out the roach, went into the house and placed it in the carved wooden box. She closed the box firmly and stashed it behind the mound of sweatshirts in her bedroom closet.

She washed her hands and face and waited for the knots in her belly to loosen. The strange, tingly sensation unfurled in her chest. She smiled, knowing the blessed relaxation she craved would follow. Placing her ball cap on her head, she remembered her gloves, called the dogs from the front room and headed out to feed the waiting horses.

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