Let her leave.

Ayanna hurried out and slid the door closed behind her. Sameera was "friends" with Ayanna in high school, but not-so-secretly thought that she was the most annoying, shallow person in the school. It was hard to argue with Sameera.

She sighed and lay down on her bed, which was in a corner of the small room. Her back was against the wall. Although she only fell into truly depressed or apathetic moods sometimes, she came off as one or the other more often then not.

I sat down next to where she lay, and from this angle I could see where her flow-y top reveled a good bit of cleavage, her proportionately plump breasts supported by a simple white bra. I caught myself staring and looked at her face, but she was looking off at the far wall. She looked a bit like Princess Jasmine, I thought.

"Oh," Sameera said suddenly, "I just remembered." She sat up, pulled a rolled joint out of one of the bags that surrounded her small bed. I smiled. Smoking together after seeing each other after long periods of time was a long-held tradition of ours. I remember the breaks in college, being stoned and up close to Sameera, wondering if I should try leaning in for a kiss, but I never had really gotten the right vibes from her to ever actually do it.

"I have a lighter," I said hastily, pulling a red lighter out of my pocket. Sameera held the joint as I lit it before she lay back down to take the first puff.

"This is the last one I have left," she said, looking longingly at the burning joint, "I was hoping you would want to smoke it with me. This may be the last weed we ever see."

She took a long drag and then exhaled slowly, smoke billowing out of her mouth in ethereal wisps. She looked and me and blew what may have looked like a kiss in my direction, but it was just a poor attempt at a smoke ring. Neither one of us had been able to master the art.