It’s not Weeds, it’s real
By Sharon Letts
The sound of Jake getting ice in the middle of the night startled Caitlin out of a sound sleep. It was 2:30 a.m., and as was her modus operendi, she lay there, unable to sleep, listening as the ice dropped into his bong one by one. She then followed the trail of his movements through sound as he puttered about, alone.
It takes a life together to have intimacy, and she was wanting.
Jake often stayed up late and slept half the day away. They were surrounded by redwoods, but she could count on one hand how often they had hiked together, let alone waked and baked together.