Jack Worthing could feel the tension release in his shoulders as he took a drag from the splif. He had concocted it from a Clove cigarette bummed off some college kids he met at the trail head and the tiny stash he had in a baggy tucked away in his backpack. He leaned back against a log and stretched his feet out towards the fire, exhaling slowly, the smell of cloves mixing sweetly with the camp fire.
Jack didn’t smoke cigarettes and he had never brought weed on a...
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