She wakes up and she gets high. She gets high before she says hi. I don't know what she's like the moment her eyes open. I've never looked over and seen them anything but bloodshot.
I have asked her about dreams. How she slept. What her day is shaping up to be. I have asked these questions and seen her get up, go to her spot, and get high before she says a word. She is talkative, but her words are coated.
She reciprocates, and I'll tell her what she told me, how I slept, my shopping list. And she sits there, listening, I think. Her eyes are glazed over, but with drugs or indifference I am not sure.
We are happy together and we do not fight. Not like we used to. For that, I suppose, I should be thankful.
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