Marilyn and I are sitting in the dining room of my high-rise apartment, smoking pot. Because we’re old and remember when this sort of thing was illegal and looked down upon by most of the people we knew, we both feel slightly naughty.
“I feel slightly naughty,” I tell my friend. She nods and smiles.
We live in a new world, Marilyn and I. Marijuana is now legal and can be purchased from shops instead of from miscreants who scare us a little. This new world comes with a virus that can kill us, and so for hygienic reasons, Marilyn has brought her own pipe.