FREE WEED

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‘Free weeed, free weed for sale’, I turned around at the corner of High-low street. This was the part of the town that the university students hung out last year. Now, it was a shadow of itself. 

‘Free weeed, free weed for sale”.

Photo by fabioluizph from Pexels


‘Free weed for sale?’ I couldn’t believe my ears. It was a tall dark woman, she had on a red pullover and deep dark jeans. She saw me and instantly repeated her chime, eyes eager for a positive response.


‘You know you can’t sell something that is free right?’


She looked at me and rolled her eyes, ‘smarty pants now, are you?’


'I’m just saying. If it's free, it can’t be for sale or did you already take a puff of that thing’, I pointed to the pink Ziplock bag in her hands.


She folded her arms and leaned on her left hip, ‘do you want it or not?’


I scratched my head and thought about the day I had had. How did I get to this side of town? Well, first time for everything, I thought. I must have sighed out loud because she looked at me with knowing eyes and said, ‘one of those days hey?’


I snickered and smirked, ‘you sure are full of cliché sayings’. She rolled her eyes, walked up to me and took me by the arm.


‘C’mon, let’s light up some of this’, she said as she shook the pink bag and led the way.



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