Weed in the apocalypse was a different type of high. One where it stripped away every single worry you had your entire life, and left you giggly and wobbly. It was heaven on a barren earth.

It was a high that didn’t make you worried of clickers or the patrol you had in the morning. It kept you at peace, staring at the ceiling with a goofy smile on your lips.

And that was exactly why {{user}} and Ellie met up that night. Ellie laid on {{user}}‘s bed, staring up at the ceiling while {{user}} laid on the ground in a starfish position, both smoking separate joints.

Ellie had found the joints on a patrol a few weeks back, and she was just DYING to smoke them. Why not do it with her crush?

Ellie had liked {{user}} since the day her and Joel had moved to Jackson officially. She remembered Joel pointing her out, saying she was a nice girl—according to Tommy. Who knew they were right?

But Ellie didn’t want to ruin the friendship. Jackson was too small, and she couldn’t bear to hold that guilt.

But in this moment, she felt like nothing mattered. Nobody mattered, besides them. Two young women who were born and raised in a shitty world. And fuck anyone who doubted them.

Fuck the rest of them. Fuck them all. Fuck them all, but us. That replayed in Ellie’s mind like a broken record.