Bruno and I were waiting in the Woolies doorway while Sam shops.
When I sniff, sniff, sniffed the air. Someone was smoking pot out there, the strongest I had ever smelt. I walked to the footpath on Smith Street out the front of Woolies and watched the three guys pass the joint between them with a sad face. I could feel my sad face as I gazed in hope. One of the guys gave me a passing glance. Oh, go on, I though.
Pass it to me. Pass it to me, I thought.
They didn’t pass it to me.
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