really, really grown up

First day of work. You wear jeans and roll a tight spliff on the bus while the other commuters stare at you. You smile proudly. I got a job at the bank, you say. You transfer to a streetcar and take that downtown. With the spliff in your ear and your briefcase in hand, you exit. The sky is bright, and the skyscrapers are really, really tall. You light up the spliff and start walking toward the bank. At a red light you put the roach in a baggie and the baggie in your pocket.

A few red lights later, a man walks up to you. Anything is something, he says, holding out a paper cup. He smells really, really bad.

You reach into your pocket and hand him the baggie, then you turn around and walk back toward the streetcar. Back home, the fog is really, really thick. You eat a chocolate doughnut and stare out the window at the fog. After that you roll another spliff, grab your briefcase, and run to the bus.