“Jacob leans over to get something out of his pocket. He tilts toward her, his shoulder butting up against hers. She has to adjust her body. He straightens and opens his palm to reveal a single, perfectly rolled joint. She hasn’t seen a joint since college. Jacob’s hands are rougher than what you’d expect from a guy who works in an office. He has dirt under his fingernails.”

— Wildflowers READ MORE fiction at the Sonder Review

—Photo by Andy Harper