9/1/2024 - Cigarette, cotton puff, plum, cucumber
"What are you doing?" His voice is full of disdain. I glance up at him, from my sitting position on the grass the plum juice dripping down throgh the space between my empty ring finger and pinky finger. God, I hate it when he smokes. His arrogence and false bravado that it affords him. Why is it everytime he smokes he gets cocky? "I'm eating a plum" I say with as much snark as I can muster, not wanting to ignite another fire of fists in my direction but also wanting to stand up for myself in some small way. He has been on me all morning and I can tell my words fall flat, he doesent even seem to remember that he asked me anything in the first place. He is greedily ripping the cotton out of a perscription bottle, the irrdecent orange of the container barely visiable at this time in the morning. He acted like he won the lottery when he fished the bottle out of purse that hea had nabbed from and unlocked and unsuspecting car earlier. The bottle doesent have a label,...