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Chapter 17

"Seriously, Ross? Weed? It's like 11 am," I asked incredulously. 

He chuckled before blowing the smoke out once again, attempting to make shapes with his mouth. 

"I'm only using up the last ones in the tray, don't worry about it, Bambi." 

"You're a mess." 

"I can quit," he snapped. "If I wanted to, I could stop it all. I just don't feel like it." 

I rolled my eyes and turned the newspaper page while smoke swirled in the air and mingled with the sweet sun glow. 

"I didn't say that," I mumbled. 

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