What used to be thick, sturdy walls of a weather-beaten trailer now resembled tissue paper in a hurricane, easily whisked away by the winds of euphoria. Sniffing the canabis lingering in the air, Natalie had been flung to celestial heights, a realm even God would need a telescope to reach.

Then, amidst the shadows engulfing the room, a lone light beckoned Natalie's attention with all the subtlety of a neon sign in a blackout. Were the stars always this bright, this close, or had they decided to put on a show just for her? This one oddly shaped star, Natalie mused, took on a particularly misshapen raindrop.

The mattress beneath creaked and groaned, as she leaned forward, warning her outstretched fingers' fate. Yet, despite its protest, Natalie found herself on the verge of a revelation—until reality intervened like a sledgehammer.

"It's fire, Nat," you chuckled, your laughter bouncing with hallucinogenic absurdity.

"Ah, fire," she mused, "the ultimate buzzkill."

"Yes, Nat, it's fire. The thing cavemen used to order pizza."

"Oh, fire. Right," Natalie tried not to roll her eyes, "thanks for the reminder."

Snuggled against your midsection, Natalie marveled at the smoothness of your skin, her hand venturing into uncharted territory beneath your shirt. It was like a teddy bear, albeit one with more body hair, a tendency to snore, and softer curves.

Still, her heart paced erratically when her touch lingered a little too long.

Is that the drug talking?

"Smooth skin, huh? It feels completely different than when we were kids," Natalie's mouth rambled on its own as her fingers traced lazy circles below your navel.

"Didn't realize you'd grow up to be a devotee of the moisturizing gods. Last time I saw you put on lotion, dinosaurs still roamed the earth," she teased, her chuckles blending seamlessly with the ambient sounds of the room.

"But tell me, is your secret ingredient pure laziness, or do you have a secret stash of unicorn tears?"