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Sitting with me in the bathroom, with my hair still dripping from my shower, as I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to smoke more. The heater in the bathroom is on, rumbling out a steady deafening pace that numbs the brain into nothing but what the body can feel. All thoughts sizzle out as I sit drying, trying to decide whether or not the freshly smoked bowl in my hand is enough.

The cramps are ruthless, but the heater is soothing. I cross my legs and flex my barefoot in front of the heater, lowering my head onto my hands. My long, wet hair falls across my face, and I point my toes, stretching them and feeling out my naked body, just sitting naked and existing, beginning my day with a slow pace. I feel the gentle buzz pulsating through my body, but will it be enough? It feels like the thrum of the heater is vibrating inside of me as I recross my legs and then stretch out, drying fully in front of the machine's air vent.

Moist and still groggy, I stretch and breathe into the day's start. I've smoked so much, but I do want more. I hold the bowl still in my hand, contemplating, losing track of the time while drying naked and fresh in front of the steadily humming warmth removing the shower's spray from my skin and hair. Barefoot and tired, I move with a languid pace of someone lost deep in thought and in need of help to move along, but I sit alone. I sit, and I sit, and I sit, waiting for help to get dressed and feed myself. Will you dress me and help with breakfast, or will we continue sitting here naked and smoke more after all?