Bitch Body

Blood

Hyper cats speeding around the bedroom interrupted her slumber. It was the weekend. She wished they would share her enthusiasm for being buried in blankets and pillows. But it was their mealtime. Took a couple of tosses and turns to surrender the comforts of her beloved mattress.

She followed the usual morning routine and rather enjoyed it within the premise of a day off. Not having to watch time was the loveliest feeling. Her father was about already. Taught her to make french toast. His cooking was a rare but well received occasion. She tried not to question the change for it was quite pleasant waking up to a fresh meal. Their humble home lacked comfortable furniture. They chatted from a stool beside the kitchen counter and an old piano bench by the microwave, respectively. Carried long conversations as they ate, washed dishes and digested the meal, after which each retired to their own lavatory.

Defaulting to the mattress in the middle of her bedroom floor, she poked the cracked screen of her mobile. The friend she'd been phoning all week was still M.I.A. There was a text notification. It was an ad from a dispensary she visited with aforementioned friend once before. She remembered relishing the fact that they were a self titled Apothecary. What a time to be alive, exclaimed her hippie little heart. Of course she would love to visit the apothecary for some herbal remedies. Especially if they were offering discounts.

Medicinal Cannabis had very recently become accepted into the market of this little colony she lived in. A year passed since she'd obtained her patient ID, but it still felt a marvel to browse online menus of available strains and drive to proper establishments that supplied them. There was a guard at the door, with scanners and a few security measures before access to the actual herb shop was granted.

This particular place was in a fancier part of town so their lobby felt too chilled and posh beneath her dirty pink slides. She tended not to wear jewelry while doing errands, but having noted employees were often handsome hipster types, it would please her to impress. Her style was mainly oriented toward comfort; striped tank top, no bra, cotton overalls. Luckily her dreadlocks counted for additional warmth. They were held back a bit by a stretchy pink headband, still wild and messy as per the neglect method of tangling.

Budtender was a cute guy with an easy smile. He opened several doors for her. She expressed a timid gratitude. Once in the presence of the actual Cannabis her demeanor shifted. Given this budget, it was important to choose well. Not that much could go wrong buying weed from these beautiful little jars. They traded inquiries of prices and amounts. He let her sniff the chosen strains. Inhaling was her favorite part. Like a cat to nip she was drawn to the promise of this fun and relaxing gift of nature. She could not fathom how people ever dared to claim she stank. These plants had a pure, wonderful aroma granted to us by the creator himself. 

 Cute guy complimented the tattoo on her left arm as she left the shop. She smiled and thanked him more confidently this time, proud of herself for looking toned since starting gym. 

On the drive back she cursed any remaining stigma surrounding marijuana. Being labeled addict and scorned for seeking the odd comfort was something she might have to endure through her lifetime. It was unfair the amount of people whose lives had been ruined on possession charges. This little shopping experience she'd just enjoyed was built on the sacrifices of less fortunate enthusiasts of the herb.  A better future never left her prayers. It was such a worthy cause to further alternative healing.

Her house was in a poor decaying sector. She had to drive beneath train tracks to get home. At a red light, she spotted one skinny cat living amidst a small city of suffering the homeless had built. Many of them were gathered around tables of provisions brought by volunteers of a charitable organization.