gingerly onto its surface. It doesn’t collapse as Bennett muscles the lid off the tuna can. She sets it off to the side, still set on her original plan of tempting the cat outside with the full intent of letting it live out the last of its wretched life out of doors. It’s the kindest thing. Bennett decides.

Philanthropy taken care of, Bennett has moved on to contemplating the paraphernalia spread out on the table next to her.

She hasn’t smoked weed in years. Alcohol had always been her drug of choice - ever since that first swig in the kitchen. Not that it had ever liked her back much.

Fuck it. Bennett thinks, immediately declaring this her battle cry of the new life before her. How hard can it be to roll a joint?

Unsurprisingly, she kind of...

Please subscribe to keep reading.