The room is dim, the flickering light from the tv the only source of illumination. Your eyes
adjust somewhat, you notice the light emanating from the tv is intermittently lighting up a
thick miasma of smoke, hanging in the air. The light seems strobe-like as it reveals the
swirls and eddies in stop-motion. After several minutes . . . or possibly hours . . . you realize
you have just been staring into the cloud and being somewhat mesmerized. You shake your
head slightly and glance around. There are guys strewn about the room in various states of
consciousness and degrees of undress. They all look like they belong here. Stoners. "Heyyyy!"
One of them drawls. You turn to see a guy with longish hair wearing only a pair of super low
slung jeans. He takes a toke from the j he's holding and nods in an approving way. He looks .
. . . familiar. At length, he exhales a thick plume of smoke as he says, "Good to see you here,
man." You do a bit of a double take and lean in. You realize you do know this guy. Or . . .
thought you knew him. He was a star student- clean cut, razor-sharp. It's hard to believe,
but undeniable that this zoned-out weed junkie is the same guy. Part of you is horrified, but
you have to admit that there is something alluring about him like this. You kneel down nearer
to him, tucking a strand of your surprisingly long hair behind your ear.