Finally, the weed's worn off. I rub my eyes and stuff every item of clothing on the floor into the laundry basket. I tear a shirt from my closet and pull it on. I'm late for work.
You see, i'm an architect. I get creativity by smoking some weed here and there. I'm not terribly well known, but still. Happy customers means happy Uchu, right...?
Wrong.
I speedwalk down the street, which is hustling and bustling with furries everywhere. I push past a sergal and avoid walking into a cat, when a dog catches my eye.
I'm not a dog.
I'm a cabbit.
